Reaching for Nothing
by noelswonderland
Summary: For revenge she would climb to an unreachable height where no one could touch her. But the higher you climb, the longer the fall, and who will be there to catch you when you reach the bottom? Shizuo x OC x Izaya
1. A King Makes His Move

**Chapter 01 - A King Makes His Move**

It was chillingly cold in the streets of Ikebukuro during the winter. Sitting with her back pressed against the cold brick siding of an apartment building, a young girl seemed to be suffering through the frigid temperatures by rubbing her hands together and using the warmth of her breath to provide some amount of heat.

A nearby door opened to one of the apartments and the man who exited gave her an odd look as he shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off. She glanced back at him and watched him leave with mild curiosity.

She peered down at the imaginary watch on her wrist, rolling up the sleeve of her jacket in order to do so. Night was beginning to crawl across the sky of Ikebukuro as light faded into the distance. It had to be pretty late, though she couldn't be sure just how late. She slouched forward, arms wrapped around her knees. Ebony black tendrils fell across her face as she closed her eyes tiredly.

Every time she exhaled she could see it visibly in the air. It only served to remind her of how cold she was. Her legs were already shivering. Any passerby might wonder why she was sitting on the second floor of a dilapidated apartment building, just outside room number 403, waiting. Just waiting... and for what? For Yomi it was something extremely important. She had patiently waited for many hours already and wasn't about to give up.

As she sat with her face pressed against her knees, she inhaled the scent of the jacket she was wearing. It smelled just like him. She loved wearing his clothes, which always reminded her of him. Even though he was dead.

**Click...**

She lifted her head to see that the door she was sitting beside had opened. Two narrowed, particularly angry looking beady brown eyes were glaring at her from behind blue shaded sunglasses. "Go home already. I'm not interested in talking." _And you've been sitting there for the past five hours,_ but he didn't add that part in. His words were straightforward and honest.

Yomi promptly smiled at him as she exhaled, her breath visibly rising through the air in thin wisps that resembled smoke. "Sorry, but it's really important," she told him in a sing-song voice, "I hope you change your mind soon. I really don't want to have to sit outside here all night, you know~"

His eyebrow twitched, perhaps in annoyance. Either way the door slammed shut again. He was being just as stubborn as she was. Maybe she had miscalculated her approach toward him. After she had complimented his strength and fighting ability, seeing him hurl a vending machine across the street, he hadn't been too open to talking to her. Even though she insisted she wanted to talk to him, he had so hastily refused her. Did he mistake her for a reporter? A sigh passed between her lips as she leaned her forehead back against her knees. Shizuo Heiwajima. That was the name the crowds of people in the area had so frantically screamed as they scrambled over each other to try to run for safety and out of his line of fire.

Inside of the apartment, which was both warm and toasty, the blonde-haired man wearing a bartender suit was peering out the shades of his front window. In the bottom corner he could see the top of her head, a mess of disheveled black hair. Even though he had told her to go home she was still sitting there. Still waiting. What did she want so badly that she had to be so persistent?

He grunted to himself as he shuffled into the kitchen and snatched up his phone. His fingers clumsily keyed in a set of numbers as he pressed the receiver to his ear. A moment later he could hear the sound of a young man on the other end. "Shizuo, is that you?" It was Shinra Kishitani.

The man's lips twitched, "Yeah. There's a creepy girl sitting outside of my apartment."

"You have a stalker?" he asked, followed by a throaty chuckle.

Shizuo's hand clenched the phone tighter in annoyance. "She's been there for five hours. Said she wants to talk because I'm the strongest in Ikebukuro." Which was a redundant statement he'd heard all too often, and one he didn't particularly take pleasure in hearing.

"Who is she?"

Leaning against a nearby wall, Shizuo shrugged his shoulders, even though the man on the other line couldn't even see the gesture. "Don't know."

Flabbergasted, Shinra proceeded to ask, "Well, how did you meet her?"

"Earlier today while I was working someone mentioned _him._" Shizuo didn't even need to elaborate on who _him_ was - Shinra already knew. Speaking the name only served to piss the blonde-haired man off more. "I mighta thrown something at the person... Or something. I guess she saw. Been pestering me ever since." The way he fragmented the sentences and described it so vaguely demonstrated Shizuo's unwillingness to recall the event. That 'something' he threw was probably a vending machine.

An audible sigh was heard on the other end. "Did you ask her what it is exactly that she wants, then?"

There was silence as Shizuo traipsed reluctantly toward the door. The cord of the phone wrapped around the corner of the room, fortunately long enough to extend through the kitchen and past the dining room, all the way to the entrance of his apartment. (Which was surprisingly not a terribly far distance; his apartment was small and humble to say the least.) He cracked it open and poked his head out. The blue-eyed girl was still sitting there, and she looked up at him with that gleaming smile of hers as though so delighted that he had decided to check on her again.

"Hey, you," he addressed her informally (and rudely), "What do you want?"

She blinked at him slowly as if processing the question. "I just want to talk to you!"

After hearing the answer he slipped his head back into the house, slammed the door, and turned his mouth back to the receiver. "She just wants to talk to me."

Shinra was simply speechless but eventually he managed to find his words. "If you can open the door to ask her that much then you should be able to figure out the problem on your own."

Skeptical, Shizuo furrowed his brows, "How?"

Unsurprised at his friend's obliviousness, Shinra responded, "You want her to leave, right? But she said she wants to talk to you. So just talk to her until she leaves." His reasoning was so simple that it made perfect sense. (Which is why it was a mystery as to why Shizuo couldn't figure it out on his own, though he didn't often have girls following him home. In fact that never happened. Ever.) Without exchanging another word, Shizuo hung the phone back up in the kitchen before shuffling back to the door.

It was the third time within the last fifteen minutes that he had opened it, only to find those blue eyes of hers gazing up at him expectantly. Despite her black hair, her eyes and pasty skin gave him the impression that she was a foreigner, even though her Japanese was impeccable.

"What is it you want to talk to me about?"

She grinned at him and responded vaguely with only one word, "Things."

He was definitely going to need a cigarette to get through this. The anger was already starting to flare. This personality reminded him too much of... "Hurry up and talk." Yes, the faster the better.

"Your name is Shizuo Heiwajima, right?"

The blonde-haired man gave a slight inclination of a nod. It wasn't surprising that she knew his name. Most people in Ikebukuro had heard of him before. His reputation always seemed to precede him.

Slowly she stood up, brushing the dirt off of her bottom. She stiffly stretched her arms and neck. "Well, then, Shi-chan, what do you do for work?"

It seemed the conversation between them would be a long one. He wasn't sure why she was so curious about his work but it didn't really matter. Shizuo slipped out from his apartment and securely shut the door behind him before leaning back against it. He patted his pant pockets searching for a pack of cigarettes. There was one somewhere - he was sure there was...

"How long have you lived in Ikebukuro?"

There it was. He pulled the box out of his pocket and flipped it open. It was disappointingly empty. His eyes lingered there for a while, as though staring long enough would somehow magically summon his cigarettes. Frankly, Shizuo couldn't even remember when he had smoked the last one. A vein bulged on his forehead as he crushed the empty box in his fist.

"Are you involved in anything suspicious?" The blue-eyed girl peered up into his face with a smile spread across her lips. She was so sickeningly happy it made him want to...

"Eh?" he grunted out. This was seeming less and less like a conversation and more like an interrogation. Perhaps she was a reporter after all. He really, really needed his cigarettes. Shizuo glanced at the crushed box in his hand ruefully.

Despite the fact that he was being unresponsive to her questions, Yomi shuffled around the blonde-haired man and eyed him curiously. "You're not a bartender... So why do you dress like one, Shi-chan?"

The empty cigarette pack which Shizuo crumpled in his hand fell to the ground. He crushed it with his foot, grinding it into the concrete.

"So you smoke, huh? I thought you smelled like smoke." It didn't even seem to bother her that he wasn't answering her. She continued to rattle off in that cheerful voice of hers. Annoyingly cheerful to the point that even Shizuo couldn't restrain the violent urges coursing through his veins and filling his head.

He inhaled sharply as he traipsed over to the railing. His hands slammed down against the steel, probably harder than he had intended. It bent beneath his strength. "One question," he said. Shizuo turned his head over his shoulder to glower at her.

The girl seemed to be pouting, considering the way she frowned back at him. "That's not very fair, only one?" She tapped her chin thoughtfully with her index finger. Her eyeballs rolled back slightly as she gazed up at the ceiling. Yomi seemed to hum to herself as she pondered it very carefully. "Ah!" she exclaimed at last with a look of excitement and realization on her face. "Who do you work for and what kind of businesses are you involved in?"

That was definitely not _one_ question. "That was two." His grip on the railing tightened, nearly crushing the metal beam which creaked in resistance against the strength of his hands.

"Think of it as a compound question," she offered with a sheepish grin. "Like a 'buy one get one free' at the supermarket!"

The way she said it so shamelessly, like she didn't even notice he was losing his patience, just pissed him off more. Before Shizuo even realized what he was doing, he had ripped out the entire fifteen foot steel railing from off the side of the building.

From behind him, Yomi's lips had formed an o-shape as she gave an approving nod toward him. "That's really impressive, Shi-chan! Although I don't think you were supposed to do that," she told him in a sing-song soprano voice. "You might get in trouble and have to pay for it later, you know~"

It was an ice cold reminder, and although the anger burned in his face and set ablaze the blood in his veins, Shizuo felt a calming rush from her words. He didn't need any more warnings about property destruction. Even in the rush of anger he could remember the manager's words the last time... "One more complaint and I'm kicking you out!" Yes, it had been something along those lines.

But logic and reasoning alone were not usually enough to soothe the "beast within," as some would call it. Perhaps it was exhaustion or because it was a girl... Then again, maybe it all came down to sheer willpower. Either way it didn't matter as the bubbling in the pit of his stomach simmered down and at last he gradually lowered the railing back down. It creaked and waned unsteadily even as Shizuo released it and stepped back. It didn't look stable at all, though he silently hoped no one would notice... Least of all the apartment manager.

"You seem a little on edge, Shi-chan," Yomi observed thoughtfully. "Maybe you should get a smoke and cool off a bit!"

His eye twitched. Yes, he definitely needed to smoke. He also needed her to disappear. "Go home," Shizuo muttered in exasperation. It was obviously a big mistake to even step out of his apartment in the first place. The soles of his shoes smacked against the concrete as he trudged back to his apartment, reached for the knob, and wrenched the door open. It screeched in resistance as it was nearly ripped from its hinges by the force Shizuo used.

Not particularly disturbed by the deafening sound, Yomi blinked slowly as she followed him with her gaze. "I really can't do that, Shi-chan. Actually, I need your help... To save Ikebukuro."

Despite the voices in his head goading him to pick up something and throw it at her, Shizuo resiliently stepped into his apartment without heeding temptation. He reiterated what he had already told her, "Go home," and slammed the door in her face. Moments later there was an audible clicking sound as he locked it behind him.

Once again inside his apartment, Shizuo became vaguely aware of how numb his fingers felt. Not from smashing up the railing but perhaps from the cold. He hadn't noticed earlier just how chilly it was. The temperature was well below the freezing point and yet that eccentric woman had sat out there waiting for him for hours...? Well, it didn't really matter. She would go home soon enough and he would be free of her. Though he had to admit she was certainly more persistent than the previous reporters that had camped outside his apartment waiting for an interview. None had been quite so obtrusive and fearless.

He breathed a quick sigh before shuffling off toward his bathroom. It was late and he needed to go to sleep quickly. He would have to get up earlier than usual to pick up cigarettes before he went to work.

Meanwhile, still sitting outside of his apartment in the position she'd occupied before beside his door, Yomi peered up at the sky. It had grown dark, and through the smog of the city she couldn't even make out the stars. Perhaps beneath the veil of pollution they still shined as brightly as she remembered when she was a child, but she couldn't see them now. Her blue eyes lowered to the crooked railing, dangling precariously on the edge of the concrete walkway. She smiled wistfully to herself.

—

That blithely beaming face was not what he wanted to see in the early hours of the morning after he stepped out of his apartment. "Good morning," her cheery voice chimed as she gazed up at him from where she was sitting beside his door. It was the same spot she had been in the night before, when he specifically remembered telling her to go home...

He _had_ told her to go home, right? Even though his memory was particularly fuzzy, he distinctly recalled making it clear to her that he wasn't interested in talking... At all. Why, then, had she sat outside of his apartment all night waiting for him? Shizuo blinked slowly. His thin lips formed into a tight frown line.

"Are you going off to work today?" she asked earnestly, her voice tinged with noticeable excitement. The dark-haired girl dusted herself off and shoved her hands into the pockets of her oversized blue jacket.

Shizuo tilted his head back momentarily before turning on his heel. He ambled down the sidewalk and stuffed his hands in his pockets. The sun was barely peeking out at the town. It was an unusual time for him to be awake and he certainly didn't want to be. For cigarettes, however, he was willing to sacrifice some sleep.

For whatever reason, the blue-eyed girl skipped along behind him and matched his pace. That sickeningly sweet smile was still plastered on her face. "Not feeling talkative in the morning, Shi-chan?"

Did she ever shut up? He glared at her with eyes that could kill. "Go home." The way he growled it out so threateningly would send any ordinary person heading for the hills. Perhaps this girl simply didn't understand what he was capable of because she just continued to smile innocently back at him as though she hadn't heard what he had said at all. At the very least his words had served to quiet her. They managed to walk in a silence accompanied only by the clicking of their own shoes against the pavement.

Even in the early morning the streets of Ikebukuro were bustling with people. Their faces were a blur to Shizuo who focused only on the path ahead of him. He tuned out the sound of honking horns, screeching tires and chattering people. All he could think about was how much he wanted a cigarette... And perhaps some milk.

_Ding, ding..._ The sliding glass doors parted to make way for Shizuo as he entered the gas station, a faint chiming in the background as if to announce his entrance. From behind he could hear the audible humming of the girl that had persistently followed him, despite the various attempts he'd made to lose her along the way. Shizuo had to admit that she was certainly dedicated to her job... No one had slept on his porch before and then followed him onto the crosswalk when the light was red, only to subsequently dodge oncoming cars. Impressive perhaps or otherwise foolhardy.

Like a duckling Yomi tailed the tall blonde-haired man as he navigated through aisles and eventually paused in the refrigerated section to pluck a bottle of milk off of one of the shelves. It was at that moment that he paused to glance back at her, his brows furrowed. Though she wasn't sure what he was thinking, she tilted her head and offered him a large grin.

His fingers tightened across the bottle as he released the glass door which shut itself softly. Shizuo turned his back toward her and shuffled toward the front counter. On his heels just as she had been the entire time, Yomi continued to hum to herself as they waited at the desk for the attendant. Behind the shaded sunglasses, Shizuo occasionally sneaked a glance at the girl whose luminous blue eyes seemed to be glued to him. It was annoying.

"Jeez, so early in the damn morning and already customers..." The man who emerged from the back had frazzled hair, disheveled and sticking out in all directions, with a face that looked unkempt. Shizuo could visible make out, from a distance, the stubble above the man's lip that was also speckled across his chin and the sides of his face. His uniform was similarly wrinkled and dirty.

The moment Yomi saw him she pinched her nose and said, "Maybe you would have more customers if you'd bathe."

While true, it was certainly tactless. The man, who looked like a delinquent, glared over from the other side of the counter with his beady eyes. "Huh? What'd you say?" he growled menacingly at her.

Although more than happy to keep himself out of trouble and the situation altogether, Shizuo was growing impatient. He slammed the glass bottle down against the counter. Though fortunately not hard enough to shatter it, the sound did seem to break through the tense air that had settled between Yomi and the attendant.

At first the man seemed to have an angry look on his face but the moment he noticed Shizuo's death glare from behind those blue shades, he visibly stiffened. Even though he seemed to be in a bad mood he still had the sense to feel fear. He nervously averted his eyes down toward the counter where the cold bottle sat. "W-will that be all for you, sir?" With the man's rough tone the polite speech seemed unnatural.

"Pack of cigarettes."

"What brand?"

Growing dangerously impatient, Shizuo tilted his head back. "Eh?" It sounded less like a question and more like the growling of a predator.

"R-right," the attendant stuttered nervously as he turned around and jerkily glanced at the cigarettes on the shelf behind him. He hesitated in choosing between them but finally snatched a box and then turned back toward the counter. Wordlessly he rang up the two items and then read Shizuo the total.

Yomi continued to stand there with a disgusted look on her face, her eyes darting between the moody attendant and the angry man she'd been following. She watched the attendant hastily place the items into a sack after taking Shizuo's money. The lean blonde-haired man quickly marched out of the station with Yomi following close behind, though she glanced back at the attendant as they left and poked her tongue out at him. It was in that moment when she wasn't watching where she was going that she bumped into Shizuo after they exited through the sliding glass doors. It was similar to running into a statue and she let out a small, "Oomph," as she stumbled backward.

Unfazed by the collision, Shizuo quickly popped open the lid to the milk bottle and downed the contents. The cool liquid which glided down his throat was refreshing. It was his own personal replacement for coffee. Drinking milk in the morning made him feel more awake. All that was left was to smoke. He desperately needed to smoke.

"So you like milk a lot, Shi-chan?" The nosy girl was poking her face into his again, standing on her tiptoes just to be able to reach his chin. She certainly was short.

He tossed the empty milk bottle into a nearby trash can and reached for the pack of cigarettes in his sack. It took a moment to open it and the entire time he couldn't help feeling a little antsy. As soon as he opened it he could almost smell the nicotine, like a tantalizing scent that screamed, "Smoke me." Shizuo was inclined to oblige. He pulled out a single cigarette and placed it between his lips before hastily stuffing the box away. Then he fumbled with the lighter, fishing it out of the pocket on his vest. Once the end of the cigarette was lit, an overwhelming calm settled over him.

Shizuo savored the feeling... It was like the throbbing ache in his head had finally subsided. The itching in his ears was gone. Everything simply felt blissful. There was no anger, no irritation, just a sense that everything was peaceful and quiet.

Well, it was for a minute anyways. "So are you going to go to work now?"

Did she only know how to ask questions? Shizuo's teeth sank into the butt of his cigarette as he shoved his hands into his pocket and stalked off down the street. Even though he silently hoped she would leave him alone since he'd so intently ignored her, she skipped after him and resumed that annoying humming of hers. It didn't even seem to bother her that she was being ignored.

As the odd pair made their way down the sidewalk and through various stoplights, turning down seemingly random street corners, Shizuo didn't even particularly notice that people purposefully stayed away from him. He was so used to the probing stares and curious glances that he didn't pay them any mind.

Yomi seemed to be relatively oblivious to the glaring passersby as well. She merely skipped as gleefully as a school girl all the while humming the most annoying tune that Shizuo had ever heard. With every bounce of her step the layer of jackets and the mismatched green scarf around her neck rustled. It sounded like there were keys in her pocket which jingled along to the melody of their footsteps, her humming, and the background noises of Ikebukuro.

If a blonde-haired man with blue shades in a bartender suit didn't attract enough attention by himself, looking like a delinquent, then the girl behind him certainly did with the clashing, uncoordinated colors of her attire. Without even talking to her one could tell she was eccentric.

Special was more like it, Shizuo thought sourly as they rounded another corner. Up ahead he could see a man standing idly in front of a building. He was wearing a particularly snazzy suit and had long mousy brown hair set into what appeared to be dread locks. The man seemed to almost sense Shizuo and turned toward him, his brown eyes staring at the two people approaching him from behind golden-rimmed glasses.

"Tom-san," Shizuo greeted as he stopped just short of the brown-haired man.

The small black-haired girl that had been following Shizuo skidded to a halt beside him and beamed at the other man. "Good morning!" she greeted cheerfully.

Tom blinked slowly and glanced between the two. "Girlfriend?" he asked, pointing his index finger in Yomi's direction.

Shizuo's eye twitched, his fists clenching at his side. "No... Definitely not," he growled out, glaring resentfully at the girl that had been stalking him. He had been hoping to shake her off before meeting up with Tom. So much for that.

"Shi-chan's right," the girl agreed with a nod. "That would be impossible since his smoking makes me nauseous." It was strange how she added a smile to the end of her sentence, as though it made up for the rude remark.

Grinding his teeth into the butt of his now nearly burnt out cigarette, Shizuo clenched his fists tightly as the vein on his forehead bulged. "Go home," he growled at her, somehow in a voice that seemed so quiet it was dangerous. Subconsciously he found himself glancing around for the nearest object to pick up and throw.

"Aw, don't get your feelings hurt, Shi-chan. I just want to follow you around and watch you work. That's no big deal, right?"

That was it. Just hearing her annoying chipper voice made him snap. The milk hadn't been enough to calm his nerves, nor had smoking the cigarette. He couldn't control his anger anymore. In the blink of an eye Shizuo had ripped a nearby parking meter from the ground and was brandishing it threateningly over his head. His aim was perfect as he tossed it before even Tom could try to calm him down.

Yomi barely managed to duck out of the way in time – narrowly dodging the flying metal object that may have otherwise smashed her into the form of a pancake. Unfortunately the passerby behind her was not so lucky, as the parking meter slammed right against the side of the man and sent him flying. There was an audible cracking noise, as though upon impact it had shattered a few of the man's bones. Yomi winced at the sound.

Even Shizuo had been momentarily shocked out of his rage. Guilt flooded him as Tom grasped his shoulder tightly to help soothe the anger. It was already done, though. The moment the parking meter had left his hands he felt relieved. The fire that seemed to be coursing through his veins had already subsided.

There were screams in the surrounding area and people were yelling at each other to call for an ambulance. A few other citizens had stopped to check on the now unconscious man, his body splayed out across the pavement. He didn't seem to be moving at all.

Having also realized the seriousness of the situation, Yomi began to edge away from the scene. Before leaving entirely she called back to Shizuo, "I better get going for now, Shi-chan! I'll definitely see you later!" She waved her hand emphatically before turning and skipping down the street.

Shizuo was left frozen like a stone statue in the middle of the sidewalk beside a busy intersection. People were rushing around him and it was all a blur. How many times had this happened before? Tom had left his side to go and check on the condition of the man that had been hit. He seemed to have regained consciousness – if he had ever lost it to begin with.

It took nearly half an hour for Tom to deal with the paramedics who came to take the man away. The man had been hysterically yelling at Tom the entire time, complaining about how much his arm hurt. Apparently it was broken. Meanwhile the shattered parking meter lay in pieces on the concrete. There was a smear of blood across it that stood in stark contrast to the metal it was painted on. Shizuo's eyes lingered on that spot as he waited. Would he be taken away by police again? Somehow this situation seemed so eerily familiar. It made him think of _that guy._

"It's taken care of."

Tom's words came as a huge relief. Shizuo breathed a quiet sigh as he pulled out the cigarettes in his vest pocket. He definitely needed a smoke now. "Thanks," he muttered quietly as he reached for his lighter.

"You'll have to pay the hospital bills, but at least he agreed not to press any charges. Law enforcement isn't going to get involved." From behind his spectacles, Tom noticed the remorseful look on his employee's face. "He only broke a few bones." Which at least meant that, to some degree, Shizuo had held back from throwing the parking meter with full strength. The shadow of a smile appeared on Tom's lips as he gently set his hand on Shizuo's shoulder. "You should learn to treat women more delicately."

That was certainly true. Any normal person would've been smashed beneath the parking meter and sent to the hospital with serious injuries. It was miraculous (and yet somehow unlucky for Shizuo) that the blue-eyed girl managed to dodge just in time.

_Delicately,_ Shizuo thought to himself. He scratched at his chin as he followed behind Tom as they began their route for the morning. Delicate wasn't a word that Shizuo had ever really had in his vocabulary. Since he didn't have any experience with girls, he had no idea how he was supposed to treat one. Grudgingly he traipsed behind his employer with an even more pissed off expression than usual. The more he mulled over the subject the angrier he became, until the butt of the cigarette clenched between his teeth was so bent that he couldn't inhale the nicotine anymore.

The rest of his day was uneventful compared to what had happened that morning. Every time Shizuo had to threaten someone who didn't want to pay up as they were supposed to, he started to think about the odd girl that had been following him around. That only pissed him off more, which was extremely unfortunate for those who incurred his wrath. Everything seemed to be going wrong; both Shizuo and Tom had to work later than usual. It wasn't until the sun was setting that Shizuo finally, completely exhausted, started to trudge back toward his apartment.

The pack of cigarettes he'd bought was almost gone. When he opened the box he saw only two left, and he didn't even feel like smoking anymore. Something in Ikebukuro felt a little off, though Shizuo wasn't sure why. He stuffed the box back into his pocket and clambered up the metal steps leading to the second story of his apartment building. When he came to the top of the stairway and gazed down the hall to the very end where number 403 was, he was mildly surprised (and perturbed) to see a familiar silhouette standing beside his door.

"Welcome home, Shi-chan!" The girl smiled and gave him a happy wave. She was wearing the same clothes she had worn that morning.

Although he was annoyed by her persistence, he had felt guilty earlier for blowing up at her. It was a bit of a relief to see that she seemed to hold no grudge toward him for it. Still, he was exasperated. The day had been unusually long and tiring. He wasn't in the mood to deal with her antics. "Go home." The keys in his pocket jingled as he pulled them out and unlocked his door.

"I still have some questions for you," she announced melodically.

Shizuo yanked the door opened and marched inside. "Not interested," he growled back at her before slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.

The gust of wind as it flew closed made her squint, and when she opened her eyes fully again, Yomi was disappointed to find herself locked outside his apartment. Nonetheless, she smiled to herself and leaned against the wall, sinking down to the floor. With her finger she idly drew invisible drawings across the concrete beside her while she waited. Eventually he would have to leave his apartment again, whether it was later that night or the next day.

Time passed quickly as it darkened outside. The film of pollution across the night's sky kept the moon's light dim as it shined down upon Ikebukuro. Inside of Shizuo's apartment, he sat idly on his couch, hunched over with a cigarette protruding from his mouth. It was his last cigarette, and he ruefully wished he had bought more as he glanced down at the empty box. It reminded him of the night before when he had also been out of cigarettes. The last one of the pack was always the best. Perhaps because he knew it was the last and that was why he savored it so.

The box crumpled in the strength of his fist. When he released his fingers it clattered to the floor and Shizuo breathed a sigh. The smoke drifted through the air as he leaned back against the poorly cushioned sofa. His eyes followed the smoke as it dispersed and eventually dissipated completely.

Was that girl still waiting outside his apartment? It seemed likely. Even someone like Shizuo had to feel a little guilty for blowing up at a person and then leaving them out in the cold all night. Although she didn't seem to be bothered by it. Maybe she wasn't human. He had never sympathized with reporters or journalists before. Why begin now? Perhaps it was because his conscience wouldn't let him rest.

Regardless Shizuo, resolved to send the girl away once and for all, sluggishly lifted himself off the couch and trudged down the hallway toward his front door. Reluctantly he cracked it open and peeked out. He was surprised to find the spot, where she had been sitting beside his door, vacant. She wasn't there. He _almost_ felt like smiling - genuinely smiling! She was finally gone and-

"Looking for me, Shi-chan?"

On second thought he was just being too optimistic. "Go home already." He was getting tired of saying it. She was probably tired of hearing it too.

The ebony locks which were perched on her shoulder fell toward the ground as she tilted her head. She seemed to keep her hair unnaturally long, which fit her peculiar appearance and eccentric personality. Even her smile was a little creepy. "You're pretty stubborn, huh, Shi-chan? You keep saying that."

"You keep ignoring me," he retorted, removing the burned out cigarette from in between his lips. Shizuo crushed it against the brick siding to finish putting it out and then flicked it over the railing behind his stalker.

"Are you going to let me in and answer my questions now?"

"If it will get you to stop following me," he conceded. Such a compromise seemed uncharacteristic for Shizuo, but perhaps it matched what Tom had mentioned earlier. Rather than scaring this journalist (or reporter, or whatever she was) by throwing things, blowing up at her, or chasing her down with large, miscellaneous steel objects that could cause serious injuries... Maybe talking was best. But he also realized something: he was definitely not good at talking.

Nonetheless she had already managed to squeeze between him and the half-closed door the moment he'd breathed those words of consent. It was too late for second thoughts. "It's surprisingly tidy," she observed, her eyes scanning the empty walls and clean floors as she walked toward his kitchen. The girl seemed to invite herself inside without even asking.

His eye twitched as he slowly closed the door and then followed after her. "Why do you want to talk to me?" It was a question that had weighed on his mind since she'd started following him, and yet he hadn't found much opportunity to ask her. At least not in between ignoring her and then trying to chuck a parking meter at her.

As she whipped around her hair came flying and nearly slapped him right in the face. Shizuo was barely able to lean back out of the way. "I told you already. I think it was something along the lines of saving Ikebukuro. That's right, isn't it...?" She tapped her bottom lip in thought as she mumbled incomprehensibly to herself.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Make it quick, I don't like interviews." To be more correct, Shizuo Heiwajima _hated_ interviews. Such hate stemmed not only from a contempt toward violence but also a particular incidence where a certain flea had set him up against a horde of reporters. It was an unpleasant experience that landed him in trouble with law enforcement. (Again.) He was starting to get angry just thinking about it.

"Interview?" she mouthed the word to herself with a confused look, "What interview?"

Why was she pretending to be oblivious? "For your paper or whatever."

The girl grinned at him. "Silly Shi-chan, you thought I was a journalist or something? There's no way. I'm unemployed."

This news came as a shock. At the same time Shizuo realized that, while she had been following him the whole time, he'd never actually asked her the exact purpose or intent behind her questioning. He simply assumed she had to be like the rest. It made sense that she wasn't; the moment he ripped something like a parking meter out of the ground with most people, they went running and never looked back. But what didn't make sense is why, then, she had followed him so intently.

"If you're not a journalist or a reporter, then who are you?"

Her eyes seemed to light up at the question. "So you're finally asking me for my name?"

Obviously she was misinterpreting the intent behind his question. Shizuo more or less was asking what it was that she so desperately sought that she had camped outside if his apartment for over twenty-four hours, but... He wasn't going to contest it if that's what she wanted to think.

"You can call me Yomi." The way she said her name so proudly was as though it was something to brag about.

Though in comparison with her personality, it was actually a fairly normal name. Shizuo had been expecting a foreign name. Either way he regarded her name as unimportant. "What do you want?"

Yomi seemed to be ignoring him as she sniffed the air and suddenly pinched her nose, making an unpleasant and disgusted expression.

"What's that for?" He sniffed the air, and maybe it was because his sense of smell was dulled from smoking all the time, but he couldn't smell anything.

"Oh, don't mind me," she said cheerily. "It's just that you stink bad enough yourself but your house actually smells like rotting carcasses." For added effect she offered a smile to the end of the sentence, as if it somehow lightened the weight of her insult.

**Smack!**

Everything seemed to blur before his eyes and it took several moments afterward for Shizuo to realize what had happened. In the split second that the anger had rushed to his head and his instincts had kicked in, he had slammed both of his fists into his table. The wood easily cracked in two beneath the strength of the blow.

"You sure are destructive, huh, Shi-chan?"

He gritted his teeth. Was that supposed to be an insult? Shizuo lifted the table by its legs, despite being split in half, and held it over his head. He was about to throw it at her when suddenly she came rushing toward him. Caught unprepared and unsure of what to do, he froze the moment he felt her small arms wrap around his back. Was she hugging him? He looked down at her in horror.

"It's okay, Shi-chan. I still like you." She grinned up at him, showing off her pearly whites. "I'll come back and chat with you some other time now that we're good friends. See you later!" The blue-eyed girl released him and skipped out of the room after giving him a slight wave.

For a good five minutes afterward Shizuo just stood there dumbfounded, his jaw set slightly agape. No thoughts could properly register in his head. He had forgotten his rage while scrambling to understand the situation. He had been hugged. Someone had hugged him. A really creepy, freakish girl had hugged him. He wasn't entirely sure whether to be disgusted or angry.


	2. Ikebukuro, The Chess Board

**Author's Note:** In case some people don't remember who is who when it comes to usernames:

Setton – Celty

Kanra – Izaya

Tanaka Taro - Mikado

* * *

**Chapter 02 – Ikebukuro, The Chess Board**

The sudden impact of his shoulder crashing into the opening metal door made him cry out in surprise. "S-sorry," the young high school student stuttered out in apology at the girl who peeked out at him. "I wasn't watching where I was going." Though he could have sworn that apartment had been vacant for some time. The previous tenant had been gone for weeks.

"It's alright," the woman smiled at him. She appeared to be only a little older than he was. There was something about her complexion that gave Mikado the impression that she was a foreigner and yet her Japanese was fluent without the presence of any distinct accent.

"Pardon me but are you the new tenant here?" It was polite conversation among neighbors; the apartment she was occupying was just down the stairs from his own.

"Mm," she nodded, "I guess I am."

Curiosity got the better of him. "Did something happen to previous tenant?" It wasn't any of his business but he asked anyway. Perhaps it was the nagging curiosity in the back of his head.

"Oh, did you know Hiro-chan?" The way she looked at Mikado so eagerly for an answer made him feel a little uncomfortable. They hadn't even been properly introduced and already she was being informal.

It was a little late to spit out his name and ask for hers, though. So he gave a vague nod to her question as he held his school bag tightly in his hands. "I didn't really know Inoue-san that well but we did speak a little." He scratched his chin nervously. "Does... That mean you're Inoue-san's girlfriend?"

The girl tilted her head with a blank expression on her face. "Something like that," she mumbled vaguely. "You can just call me Yomi."

"Mikado Ryugamine," the black-haired school boy smiled. "If you don't mind me asking, Yomi-san, where has Inoue-san been?"

"Oh, you don't know?" A sound similar to a giggle slipped past her lips. "Hiro-chan was murdered."

He wasn't sure whether it was the news of his neighbor's death or the way Inoue's girlfriend so nonchalantly announced it that caught Mikado by surprise. His jaw dropped open as he tried to register it. Guilt flooded him as he quickly bowed his head in apology. "S-sorry," he sputtered out quickly. Inwardly he admonished himself for his own curiosity, which still hadn't been satiated. He felt badly for both Inoue and his girlfriend, but Mikado couldn't help wondering what exactly had happened. Such thoughts were inappropriate.

The girl knelt down in front of him and peered up into Mikado's face. She was still wearing that blithe smile as though she hadn't just mentioned her lover's death. "There's nothing to be sorry about," she told him cheerfully in a voice that emanated a childish naivety. The way it didn't seem to bother her, as though she was in severe denial, reminded him of a child incapable of comprehending the concept of death. But her next words ruined any comparison toward Yomi about being a child. "Unless... Are you the one who killed him, Mikado-chan?" Her voice was so dangerously low, and the way her eyes seemed to gleam at him with murderous intent as she venomously spat his name at the end of the sentence made his blood run cold.

"N-no," Mikado stuttered out as he stumbled back away from her. The question was absolutely ludicrous. The very idea of ever taking another person's life was absolutely terrifying to him. Mikado couldn't even begin to think of doing that to anybody, especially a man he barely knew. Nonetheless he was eager to put some distance between himself and the peculiar girl who was still kneeling on the ground and smiling innocently at him. "S-sorry, Yomi-san. I have homework to do, I'm going to go home now." He quickly bowed before turning toward the stairs.

She waved to him and said, "See you later, Mikado-chan!"

Much later he hoped as he nervously peered over his shoulder back at her. Yomi was still jubilantly flailing her arm in what he assumed was supposed to be a goodbye wave. Mikado mechanically turned his gaze forward and hurried to his apartment. He'd never been more eager to return 'home.'

Once he was inside he flicked on the lights and locked the front door. He laid his book bag on his bed before wandering over to his computer and plopping down in front of it. It was like a daily ritual of his to log onto the chat room and chat with his friends right after he returned from school. With his thoughts in disarray, Mikado couldn't even begin to think about the homework he had. He was more anxious to talk to someone.

**Tanaka Taro has joined the chat room.**

**Tanaka Taro:** Good evening, Setton-san!

** Setton:** Evening.

**Tanaka Taro:** Have you seen any murders recently in the news?

It was a bit of long shot to ask but he was hoping that maybe she would know something. Mikado kept himself well-informed through news websites about occurrences around Ikebukuro but he hadn't heard about anything about Inoue.

**Setton:** There's always quite a few happening that are gang-related... Is that what you're looking for?

**Setton:** Why? Did something happen?

Though he didn't exactly peg Inoue as the type of person to get involved in something gang-related, it wasn't impossible.

**Kanra has joined the chat room.**

**Tanaka Taro: **This guy that used to live in my apartment building was apparently murdered. I talked to his girlfriend today.

**Kanra:** That sounds terrible.

**Setton:** I'm sorry to hear that.

Mikado's lips turned up in a slight smile of anticipation. Kanra always seemed to provide information when he needed it. Whenever there were gang wars around Ikebukuro it was usually Kanra who popped in and informed Mikado.

**Setton:** Did she say how it happened?

**Tanaka Taro:** No... She didn't say.

**Kanra:** What is his name?

**Tanaka Taro:** Hiro Inoue.

**Tanaka Taro:** The last time I saw him was a month ago. The last week of October.

**Tanaka Taro: **After that he just sort of vanished... Then his girlfriend came out of his apartment today.

**Setton:** That's really weird. The name isn't familiar to me, though.

**Setton:** I don't think there's been anything in the news about him.

Although Mikado had been silently hoping for Kanra to offer some information, she was being unusually quiet in the chat room. It was a little disheartening, though his conscience kept reminding him that the entire situation wasn't really any of his business. Something did strike him as a little odd.

**Tanaka Taro:** Come to think of it...

**Tanaka Taro:** The girl that said she was his girlfriend, I've never seen her around here before.

**Tanaka Taro:** Kind of weird since I think Inoue-san has been living here for over a year.

It certainly seemed suspicious, though in a town like Ikebukuro it hardly seemed odd at all. Not when you considered Celty who was headless, Shizuo who had superhuman strength, and Anri who owned the possessed blade known as Saika. This seemed relatively mild in comparison. Mikado wasn't even sure why it particularly piqued his curiosity. Perhaps it was because he was personally acquainted with Inoue.

**Setton:** Maybe she made the whole thing up.

Logically he couldn't figure out Yomi's motivations for making up such a story. At the same time he couldn't dismiss the possibility. She was a very odd person to be sure. It still seemed unlikely that she would lie about someone being murdered.

Mikado breathed a sigh as his fingers hovered over the keys of the keyboard. Maybe there was no point in asking about it... He only wondered because he was curious but some things were better left unknown. Perhaps it was best to forget the whole thing.

Just as he was about to bid his farewell to his friends and log out, a separate window suddenly popped up. Kanra had started a private conversation with him and had sent him a message.

**Kanra:** It's very tragic. I knew Hiro-san personally.

**Kanra:** Be sure to give his girlfriend my condolences.

**Kanra:** I just hope she isn't involved in that shady organization like he was.

Shady organization? Suddenly his fingers were skittering across the keyboard as he tried to type out a question, but unfortunately he wasn't fast enough. By the time he pressed enter, a new message had already popped up on his screen.

**Kanra has left the chat room.**

** Your message could not be sent, this user is not in your chat room.**

His back slumped in disappointment. Rather than getting the answers to his questions, Mikado just ended up with even more questions. Not that it really mattered anymore; it was already pitch dark outside and he'd spent more time talking about it than he had intended. With all the homework he had sitting in his backpack, he didn't have any more time to squander chatting about the issue for his curiosity's sake. So he bid Setton a hasty farewell before logging off.

After spending only a little more than an hour on his homework, Mikado changed, brushed his teeth and headed off to bed with his stomach growling in complaint. Even though he could feel the ache of hunger, his mind was swimming with too many thoughts to even notice. Despite that, he fell asleep relatively fast.

Early the next morning, just as the sun was peering up from beyond the horizon, Mikado already had his book bag in hand. He straightened his uniform meticulously after noticing, while looking in the bathroom mirror, that his tie was crooked. His thoughts still lingered on Kanra's words and the odd girl now living in his apartment complex. Although the night before he had been hoping not to run into her again, he found himself a little eager to ask her about what Kanra had said.

With that in mind he exited his apartment, locking the door behind him. The keys jingled in his hand as he stuffed them into the pocket of his pants as he trudged down the stairs. At which point he noticed that it was rather chilly out. A cold breeze seemed to be snaking through the streets of Ikebukuro, like an icy hand that caressed his cheek, leaving behind a rosy blush.

He rounded the corner to start down the street when from behind him, Mikado heard the sound of a door creaking open. Curious, and silently hoping it was Yomi, he stopped and peered around. Luck seemed to be on his side.

The long-haired girl was pulling a large trash bag out from her apartment. Perhaps struggling was more the word; he could hear her muttering obscenities from over ten feet away as she kicked and pulled at the filled black plastic bag. It was stuck in the doorway of her apartment and didn't seem to want to budge.

"Do you need help?" he offered politely. Mikado walked up behind Yomi who seemed to be undisturbed by his presence. She continued to concentrate on the stubborn bag that refused to move for her. Since she seemed to be so preoccupied, the black-haired boy took her silence as an indication that, although she was getting nowhere, she didn't particularly want his help. "Actually, Yomi-san, there was something I wanted to ask you about..."

Her fierce blue eyes glanced back at him momentarily. Those pale lips of hers were set in an angry frown line but quickly lifted into a smile as soon as she spotted him. "Oh, Mikado-chan!" she exclaimed in a tone of mock surprise. "Did you come to talk to me about Hiro-chan?"

Whether she was simply guessing randomly or she had some clue about what was on his mind, Mikado wasn't sure. But he did swallow the lump in the back of his throat as he gave her a nod. He felt guilty asking. It seemed wrong and impolite. If his parents knew he was prying a dead man's girlfriend for information surrounding said dead man's murder, they would probably scold him.

"Ohh, maybe you need to use the bathroom. Well, even though your apartment is just up the stairs, feel free to use mine if you're having diarrhea." Even though Yomi was talking about excretion she was smiling broadly.

Mikado stuttered. "W-wha...? N-no!" His cheeks flushed red. He wasn't sure how she misunderstood - or what he'd done to make her misunderstand, but...

"I was wrong?" She tilted her head questioningly with a confused look. Yomi furrowed her brows while tapping her finger to her lips. "You were making such a pained expression on your face. The one a person makes when they really have to go."

His lips trembled with the words he wanted to speak but wasn't able to. Mikado wasn't even sure how to respond to that. This girl was definitely odd. In fact, she redefined odd in a way that he wasn't even sure was possible. "N-no, I'm... fine," he assured with a nervous smile and an apprehensive look. "Inoue-san is who I was going to ask you about."

"What about him?" There was a more serious tone to her voice this time. Yomi turned her back toward him and continued trying to tug at the yellow drawstrings of the bag. With all her strength she managed to move it at least several inches onto the concrete, almost enough for the door to shut.

"I know it's none of my business a-and I don't mean to intrude, but... Was Inoue-san involved in some kind of organization? Is that why he was murdered?"

Her hands froze. Yomi blinked for a minute before turning her gaze toward Mikado. "What?" The sound of her voice was unexpectedly hollow.

Mikado gulped. It sounded like she didn't know what he was talking about. Maybe it was a bad idea to mention it. "S-sorry," he fumbled with the apology as his body jerked downward in a bow. "I shouldn't have mentioned it. Please forget I said anything."

"How did you know about Hiro-chan being involved in an organization?"

He chanced a glance up at her face. Yomi was waiting expectantly for an answer from him. Mikado was mildly surprised that she didn't seem upset at all about him bringing up her dead boyfriend again. "Actually, I don't know anything about Inoue-san or what kind of work he did. It was a friend of mine from an internet chat room who mentioned it. She said that she knew Inoue-san personally."

Yomi narrowed her eyes and released the trash bag. She traipsed toward him with her hands clenched in fists at her sides. For being so short she still managed to be intimidating. "Where is this person? Who are they?" she hissed venomously.

The sudden change in her demeanor startled him. "I... I don't know who she is exactly," he explained. "We just talk in an internet chat room sometimes."

They stood there staring back at each other for what seemed like several minutes. Yomi seemed to be searching Mikado's eyes as though she doubted what he'd said and thought that somehow his eyes would betray his words and reveal the truth. At last when she seemed to be satisfied that he'd been truthful, she offered him a prompt smile. "You better hurry to school, Mikado-chan. You don't want to be late."

Though her unexplained and sudden change of moods made him feel uncomfortable, Mikado felt relieved to see her smiling again. He returned the gesture with a lopsided, halfhearted smile of his own before waving goodbye to her and leaving.

Yomi stared after him as he hurried down the street without so much as glancing back. The smile on her face grew into a deranged grin as she turned back toward the task of moving the trash bag. "Come now and be cooperative, trash bag-san. It'd be really inconvenient for me if I couldn't move you. I really need to hurry and finish setting my pieces up on the chess board, you know?"

—

"Welcome home, Shi-chan!"

His eye twitched. Seeing her in the evening sitting by his door again had to be some kind of bad omen. Even though it had been a whole two days since he last saw her, he had been hoping to be fortunate enough to never have to again. He should have known better. Shizuo bit down on his cigarette as he inserted his key into the lock on his door. "You're here again," he remarked dully.

Yomi was wearing that trademark smile of hers. "Doesn't it make you happy to see me when you come home from work?"

"No."

The door clicked and he opened it. Before Shizuo could even slip in, Yomi pushed past him and into his apartment. Shizuo growled to himself and mumbled about how annoying she was as he followed after her and slammed the door behind him. The girl had no sense of being unwelcome or unwanted.

Yomi skipped into Shizuo's dining room, examining the hastily repaired table with a look of mild curiosity. She extended a finger and scraped her nail across the obvious crack that had dried glue seeping out of it. "Hey, Shi-chan... Do you maybe know a person named Hiro Inoue?"

He stared at her back, his eyes unconsciously following her finger as it moved, "Don't know."

Slowly her neck craned back and her eyes met his. "I heard he was involved in some kind of organization. If you could find out any information I would be grateful." That weird, quirky smile of hers was gone. She looked surprisingly serious and somewhat downcast as she made the request. Shizuo almost felt inclined to ask about the situation or offer to ask his friends about it. At least until she spoke again. "Jeez, Shi-chan, it stinks in here so badly I want to vomit." She was smiling again. "Well, I better go!"

His fist went flying and smashed right through his table, and while Yomi skipped off just as she always did, Shizuo continued to rage in his dining room... Only to later despair over using more super glue in an attempt to piece his table back together.

He was definitely _not_ going to help her...

Although he'd promised himself that he wasn't, as he came across his headless and only female friend a few days later, Shizuo found himself asking anyways. "Oi, Celty... Have you ever heard the name Hiro Inoue?" The blonde-haired man surprised himself that he was even able to remember the name. He had always been terrible with names.

Perched upon her motorcycle at the edge of the sidewalk, the dullahan quickly typed out a message across the electronic buttons on her PDA before flashing the screen in front of Shizuo's face. _"Coincidentally someone mentioned the name in a chat room a few days ago and was asking about him."_

His brows furrowed.

_"I couldn't find out any information on the internet, but apparently he was murdered."_

"Murdered," Shizuo repeated thoughtfully. He wondered if Yomi already knew... Then again, perhaps that was why she had asked in the first place. His lips twitched, moving the cigarette in his mouth up and down as he tried to figure out the situation. Inevitably it probably involved the flea. Bad things happening in Ikebukuro almost always involved the flea. It made him angry just thinking about it.

In the background Shizuo heard the sound of Celty's gloved fingers tapping against the face of her PDA again. A moment later she lifted it toward his face. _"Was there something in specific you wanted to know?"_

"Organization," he said, just as the word popped into his head, reminding him of what Yomi had asked about a few days before. "D'you know if he was involved in any kind of organization?"

Her fingers darted deftly across the screen. _"No, I don't."_ But she continued to type out another message. _"I'll see if I can find out anything for you. But..."_ And this time a question. _"Why are you interested in this person all of a sudden?"_

Shizuo pulled the butt of the cigarette out from in between his lips and dropped it on the ground before crushing it with the heel of his shoe. "No reason. This weird girl has been following me around lately. She's the one who asked."

Celty seemed to be stunned, her fingers loitering above her screen as though she wanted to type something out but couldn't. A girl was following Shizuo? A stalker? A stalker that was a girl? A girl? It just didn't register.

"Ah, time to get back to work..." Shizuo gave a brief wave before traipsing off, leaving the dumbfounded dullahan behind. Eventually she regained her sense, though she still couldn't grasp the situation Shizuo was in.

Since it was late into the afternoon and she'd already finished her route, Celty immediately headed back for home. It was an exhilarating ride, dodging through traffic to the load roar of her motorcycle, which so often sounded like a neighing horse. At the very least she managed to be discreet enough not to incur the wrath of the bizarre motorcycle police that she so greatly feared. It was always a relief to return to Shinra's apartment without having any run-ins with them.

The headless woman clambered noisily up the stairs. When she arrived in front of the apartment door she first checked the door knob. Much to her delight, it was already open. That meant Shinra had returned home early. Which is why it was no surprise that upon opening the door he flew at her from nowhere.

"Celty!" he cried affectionately as he tried to attach himself to her. She didn't even have to use her influence over the shadows to simply step aside and out of his way. Before Shinra could redirect his course he slammed right into the metal door with a small, "Ow."

While he was busy rubbing his bruised forehead Celty pulled out her PDA and typed out a quick message to him. Although she knew it seemed like a long shot that Shinra would know anything about Hiro Inoue, he was a good place to start asking. _"Do you know anything about a person called Hiro Inoue?"_

Shinra stared at the screen and blinked slowly. "Doesn't look familiar..." His lips twitched as he tried inwardly search his mind for any knowledge of the name, but in the end he just shook his head and reaffirmed what he'd already said. "Nope! Definitely not familiar."

Though she was admittedly disappointed, it wasn't entirely unexpected. _"Both Shizuo and Mikado were asking about it."_

He stared at her from behind his thickly rimmed glasses. "Maybe you should try asking Izaya about it. He would probably know something."

Celty gave a thoughtful nod. It was certainly the place she was most certain to get the information she was looking for. Though surely if she'd had her head – and therefore a mouth - she would be able to taste the irony... Asking for information from Izaya for Shizuo.

Since the serious conversation was over, Shinra took the opportunity to try and cling to Celty again, crying out her name gleefully before lunging toward her.

—

It took forever to pry Shinra off and leave, but Celty was eventually back out cruising the streets of Ikebukuro all the way to Shinjuku. The night air was cool enough that it seemed to penetrate her suit, just another sign that winter was rapidly approaching. She gripped the handlebars tighter as she steered her motorcycle down a side street.

Why couldn't she seem to find Izaya? He always popped up when she least expected (or when it was inconvenient) but when she was actually seeking him out he was nowhere to be found. Frustrated, she accelerated down the stretch of concrete. As she rounded the next corner too fast, there was an echo of tires squealing against the road. Celty didn't mind it as she sped off.

It took an hour of scanning the bustling night streets of the town before she at last spotted Izaya skipping down a crosswalk with a cheery expression on his face. Whenever he was happy it usually meant he was up to something mischievous. If Celty had lips then she would sigh.

He seemed to notice the approaching hum of her bike, and after crossing the sidewalk stopped and turned his head in her direction. The tall slender man stood rigidly with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his fur-lined coat. As her motorcycle rolled up beside him to a stop he offered her a large, insidious grin. "Ah, Celty! Were you looking for me?" Beneath the bright lights of the city his eyes seemed to be a gleaming red.

For anyone else it may have been unsettling but Celty didn't let it affect her. She was too busy typing out the question she'd intended to ask him the moment she'd found him. _"Actually there was some information I needed."_ Rather than asking him, she made a statement. Politeness was wasted on someone like Izaya, who would either take a jab at her for it or disregard it altogether.

It seemed to pique his interest that she was coming to him for information. "Oh? Could it be about your head?" The grin spread wider, almost to the corner of his eyes.

_"No,"_ she corrected quickly, _"It's actually about a person named Hiro Inoue."_

Izaya suddenly seemed disinterested, though he did a good job of hiding his disappointment. "Why are you so curious about someone like that?" He tilted his head questioningly.

_"Do you know him? I heard he was murdered."_ Though she tried to be discreet about it, she was obviously avoiding his question. Celty didn't particularly want to tell him that she had volunteered to find out information for Shizuo.

His eyes seemed to stare through the dark shade of her helmet, where if she'd had a head, she could have stared back at him. Izaya seemed to be assessing the situation, as well as what information he was willing to divulge to her. In his silence she noticed his hand twitching in his pocket, as though playing with the flick blade she was sure he kept there. "I know him," he answered vaguely.

Though it seemed he was purposefully avoiding saying anything more than that, Celty persisted. _"Can you tell me what you know?"_

Izaya shook his finger at her. "Tsk, tsk. You can't ask me something like that without telling me why you want to know, Celty."

Although it was a bit frustrating, she knew that she couldn't lie to him. Izaya was too perceptive. Even if she didn't have a head, he had a pretty easy time reading her. Since she'd come far enough to find and ask him, there was no sense in hitting a road block by trying to lie. If he didn't want to answer, then there was nothing she could do. With steely resolve, Celty typed back, _"Shizuo asked me. He said there was a girl following him around that wanted to know about it."_

"Ah, so Shizu-chan finally has a girlfriend!" Though he was still smiling, there was something about the tone of his voice that told Celty he wasn't particularly happy about hearing this.

Celty quickly tried to correct this misconception. _"I don't think it's a girlfriend, maybe it's more like a stalker."_

At the very least she'd managed to catch Izaya's attention. He seemed curious. "A stalker?" he mused. It probably seemed preposterous that a _girl_ would want to stalk someone as dangerous and brutal as Shizuo Heiwajima, but the dark-haired informant didn't disclose his opinion about the matter. Instead he ventured a question to Celty, "What do you know about Shizu-chan and his new stalker?"

_"I didn't really ask about it,"_ she responded honestly. _"Since it was important enough for him to ask me about it I thought I would try to find out some information. He said Hiro Inoue was involved in some kind of organization. Do you know anything about that?"_

"Can't help you there, Celty!" As though he had somewhere better to be, Izaya gave a short wave to her before leaving. Behind him he could hear the sound of her motorcycle as she started down the street. The sound of a rearing horse faded quickly into the distance as he continued down the sidewalk, his eyes focused ahead of him as he brushed through the crowd of bustling people. "The seed I planted cultivated itself so quickly," he mumbled to himself. It didn't take long before he returned to his office and plopped down into his rolling chair. The informant hastily logged himself onto the internet chat room he frequented so often.

**Kanra has joined the chat room.**

Though he had anticipated the possibility of no one else being online, he was right in his calculations that the user Tanaka Taro - or otherwise Mikado Ryugamine as Izaya knew him in real life - would be there.

**Tanaka Taro:** Good evening, Kanra-san!

**Kanra:** Good evening Tanaka-san.

**Kanra:** Have you spoken to Hiro-san's girlfriend since the other day?

It had been a little while since Izaya had visited the chat room and spoken with Mikado through his female alias. With his preoccupation in various affairs throughout Ikebukuro, he remained fairly busy. Besides that, he'd been waiting for the tidbit of information he'd leaked to Mikado to circulate and return to him. It had happened a little sooner than he had expected and in such an interesting way.

**Tanaka Taro:** Oh, yes! I did and I asked her about the organization since you had mentioned it before, but...

**Tanaka Taro:** She didn't tell me anything.

**Tanaka Taro:** What kind of organization was he involved in, Kanra-san?

**Kanra:** Did she ask you about the organization?

**Tanaka Taro:** Yeah.

**Tanaka Taro:** And she asked about you.

Izaya's gaze wandered over to his makeshift chess board as a large smile spread across his thin lips. "Perfect," he purred out as he lifted himself out of the chair and quickly logged out of the chat room without another word. He grabbed his jacket off the back of his rolling chair and slipped his arms through it. "I'm going out for a while," he announced to his preoccupied secretary as he skipped toward the door.

The brown-haired female stared after him with a disapproving look on her face. "He's up to no good again..."

But then, when was Izaya _not_ up to something that was no good?


	3. Pawns Set In Motion

**Chapter 03 - Pawns Set In Motion**

"Come on, come on," the boy goaded in a begging voice. "You said her boyfriend was murdered, right? I bet she's really pretty... Ah, but you have Anri-chan, why are you involved with an older woman like that?"

Mikado smiled awkwardly at his best friend, who was already jumping to conclusions about the situation. "It's not like that, Kida."

The dark golden-blonde haired school boy frowned at his friend's denial. "You don't have to convince me," he assured in a smooth voice as he threw his arm around Mikado and leaned in close to his face. "You can just leave Anri-chan in my care." He said that even though he had a girlfriend. It was painfully obvious that Kida had a hard time letting go of his own playboy-like nature.

Trailing closely behind the two was the girl in question, her chin dipped down enough to hide her brown eyes beneath a layer of black bangs. She'd been fairly quiet the entire way to Mikado's apartment. It had been surprisingly easy for Kida to convince her to come along. Though she was silent about it, she obviously felt a little uneasy going to visit someone with a recently deceased loved one. Perhaps it was because she felt it was none of her business or perhaps another reason entirely. The two boys ahead of her didn't seem to notice.

Not that second guessing would matter anymore; as soon as Anri became aware of her surroundings after being consumed in thought, she found herself standing beside her two friends in front of a large metal door. The apartment number was so faded that she couldn't read it, even squinting behind her large, round glasses.

"This is her apartment," Mikado mumbled, feeling as equally uneasy as she was about this.

The only person who didn't seem at all fazed by the situation was Kida, who hastily banged his fist against the door. "Hello?" he called out in a sing-song voice. "We'd like to talk to you, miss!"

It took little more than a minute before the door cracked open and two bright blue eyes peered out from the darkness within the apartment, much like a cat in the night. Even Kida reeled back. "Ah!" she exclaimed suddenly. The door flew open fully and the light from outside spilled in, revealing Yomi in her usual baggy, boyish clothing that Mikado had seen her wearing the past few days. "Mikado-chan, you came to visit me. Are these your friends?"

The nervous boy gave a nod. "Y-yes, these are-"

"Masaomi Kida," the blonde announced quickly as he motioned to himself, and then to the girl beside him, "And Anri Sonohara. Pleased to meet someone as pretty as you, miss!" He was certainly laying it on thick, even though Mikado could tell that his best friend was using the word 'pretty' very loosely.

Anri quickly bowed her head in polite greeting. "Nice to meet you," she squeaked out meekly.

"You can call me Yomi," she beamed back at them. "Well, since you said you wanted to talk to me, feel free to come in. No sense talking at the door. Any friend of Mikado-chan is surely welcome here."

Anri gave Mikado a questioning look upon hearing the impersonal '-chan' honorific that Yomi insisted on using with his name. He, in turn, shrugged at her. Mikado had yet to figure out why she insisted on calling him so familiarly, though he did warn his friends beforehand that she was a bit odd.

The four people crowded around the small table in the midst of what appeared to be a chaotic and slightly unclean apartment. It didn't smell particularly bad, though there was trash and dirty clothes still strewn about the floor. There did seem to be evidence that she had been cleaning. A basket sat at one corner of the room half-full of clean laundry, most of which was already neatly folded.

"I would offer you tea but I can't stand it." It was an odd thing for her to say as she sat at the end of the table on an uncomfortable looking cushion. Nonetheless, Yomi smiled at the three of them. "Did you want to ask me about Hiro-chan?"

Mikado glanced at Masaomi. He didn't particularly feel like being the one to direct the questions. Not after the uncomfortable encounters he'd had before with Yomi. Whether Masaomi picked up on his uneasiness or not, Mikado wasn't sure, but Masaomi did take the opportunity to be the one to ask.

"Mikado told us that he was your boyfriend and that he passed away. It must be so difficult!"

She blinked slowly at him. "Difficult?" The word didn't even seem to be in her vocabulary. "I don't think it's difficult at all." It was an odd thing for someone whose boyfriend had supposedly been murdered to say, but it was already painfully obvious that Yomi wasn't normal.

"We're sorry for your loss," Anri apologized with another bow of the head. She still felt guilty about coming to ask someone about dead person, even if Yomi showed no signs of remorse or sadness about it. The situation was none of their business, but because Masaomi had seemed so inclined to stick his nose into it, she and Mikado had been unwittingly strung along.

Yomi ignored her apology. "Did you know Hiro-chan?"

"N-no," the busty girl stuttered out in response. "I had never heard of him before Ryugamine mentioned him."

"Likewise," Masaomi's voice rung out. "Never heard of the guy until now."

It was disappointing to find that neither of them had any connection to Hiro, though Yomi didn't seem to be upset about it at all. She smiled as blissfully as ever. "If you do find out any information, I would be grateful. I didn't know it but Mikado-chan mentioned that Hiro-chan was involved with some kind of organization. I hope it's not a bad one. It has me worried." The way she suddenly acted upset about the situation made it seem fake, and yet the three of them sympathized with her despite that.

"Of course we'll help you find information," Masaomi offered with a lofty grin.

"Thank you." She gave him an appreciative nod. "That's the whole reason I came here. To Ikebukuro, that is... To find out why Hiro-chan was murdered."

Without thinking, Mikado found himself asking, "How did it happen?" When he realized that he'd blurted his question without thinking, he apologized profusely. "S-sorry, you probably don't want to talk about it. I shouldn't have asked thoughtlessly, I-"

"He was shot." With her pointer finger and thumb she formed a gun with her hand and pointed it at Mikado who was sitting across from her. Yomi closed one eye and aimed her finger toward his chest and said, "Bang. Right to the heart." It was chilling how easily she managed to describe his death as though it didn't affect her at all.

An awkward silence seemed to follow but it didn't last long. Masaomi spoke up quickly with his usual cheery smile. "Ah, something like this... It would be wrong to leave a damsel in distress to deal with the situation by herself. You'll have my help, Yomi-chan." He winked at her and then turned to his two friends, giving them imploring looks.

Though he was a little reluctant, Mikado voiced his support. "I don't know how much help I'll be, Yomi-san, but if I can find anything out I'll definitely let you know." His lips, though trembling with his own nervousness, lifted in a small smile.

"Me, too," Anri spoke in a quiet voice. She seemed to share Mikado's reservations, despite throwing her support in at Masaomi's behest.

Regardless of how willing they were (or perhaps weren't) to help her out, Yomi was pleased. "I can't thank you all enough. Any information you can find out would be really helpful. I just couldn't live without knowing why." If she didn't have the eerily cheerful look on her face, then she might have sounded _almost_ normal.

After a hasty farewell the three schoolmates took their leave. Yomi saw them off, stepping outside of her apartment to wave to Anri and Masaomi as they made their way down the street to their own homes while Mikado ascended the staircase to his apartment.

Once they were all gone Yomi briefly popped back into her apartment. She wandered back into the bathroom, where the sink was lined by several pill bottles. Most of them appeared to be empty. Yomi lifted one, which was half-full, and dumped a sizable amount onto her palm. Without even batting an eye, she threw her head back and tossed them into her mouth, followed a moment later by a small glass of water. Though it was a struggle, she managed to swallow the large lump of clustered pills, despite the tears that formed at the edge of her eyes.

"Ah!" she gasped in relief as she slammed the cup down against the cabinet. Then briefly she peered into the mirror. Her face had become noticeably pale, and she smiled awkwardly at her reflection. "That's no good, you have to hold up just a little longer. Just until I'm finished." As she spoke, her hand wandered unconsciously to her abdomen where she gently massaged her rib, gritting her teeth as her face contorted into a pained expression. Breathing out a deep sigh, she curled her hand into a fist and turned to leave the bathroom.

Yomi hurriedly locked the apartment and set off toward her destination. On her way, she passed by many ordinary citizens going about their daily routine. In her eyes, they were even plainer than the scenery they surrounded themselves with. They were like gray splotches on the canvas of the world that she passed by without so much as a glance, which would explain why she darted out into a crosswalk while the light was red. Yomi didn't even seem to notice the honking horns, screeching tires, or the angry drivers who stepped out of their cars to scream at her.

Blissfully unaware, she just continued to skip down the sidewalk while humming to herself. The humming eventually turned into a song. "Now the pawns are on the move. It's your turn, so what to do? Oh black king, black king... I'll turn your kingdom to dust, so be patient, patient... And just wait for us." It was a quirky tune, and her singing voice was anything but flawless. Passersby were seen holding their ears as she busted out the made-up melody.

—

Another day had passed as he trudged home wearily, puffing on the cigarette protruding from his lips. Usually he was fairly happy to be heading home, but lately he had experienced a strange feeling in his stomach. Like knots twisting so tightly he wanted to throw up. He couldn't really figure out what it was... Almost like he dreaded returning to his apartment every night. His teeth sank into the butt of the cigarette.

It was probably because, although sporadically, she was often there waiting for him. She always spouted that same greeting, too. What was it? He couldn't remember exactly what it was that she said every time. It was something like... "Welcome home, Shi-chan!" Yes, that was it! That was exactly how she always said it. Wait a minute...

From behind the blue shades he glanced up. There was that eerily familiar smiling face just inches away from his own. She was definitely too close. "You're here again?" he sighed as he brushed past her. "No one knew about that Hiro guy you were asking about." Maybe telling her that would get her to go away. He hoped she would leave.

Yomi bounced up beside him and shot through the open door of his apartment just seconds after he'd unlocked it. "I knew you would ask for me, Shi-chan!" The girl called back toward him, sounding delighted.

His eye twitched. "Stop calling me that..." That _horrible_ nickname.

Even though he'd surely said it loud enough for her to hear, Yomi seemed to just ignore his request. She did turn back toward him all of a sudden, holding out a plastic sack toward him with a convenience store logo plastered on the front. "Here! I got this for you since you asked for me." She grinned. "It's a gift, a gift!"

Anything that she was giving to him as a gift was questionable at best. Still, Shizuo wasn't the type to turn down something free. Especially if it happened to be dairy. Oh how he hoped it was dairy... It might actually make him feel slightly more tolerant of her. But as he reached for the sack, she pulled it away.

"Hold on, grabby fingers," she chided with a pouting look as she reached into the sack and produced a small but colorful package that she held out toward him.

Furrowing his brows, Shizuo took it from her and eyed it.

"It's breath mints, because your breath always stinks so bad."

His eyes flashed, but before he could slam his fists into something without thinking, Shizuo noticed the next item she pulled out. It stopped him dead in his tracks. The anger quickly ebbed away as though she hadn't just insulted him.

"Milk," she declared as she held the cold glass bottle out toward him. Yomi smiled.

With the previous insult entirely forgotten, Shizuo sheepishly accepted the gift. It was a little awkward for him to receive something, especially from a girl. Though being about the most oblivious man in Ikebukuro, he didn't really take Yomi's being a girl into account. Perhaps that was because, in just about anybody's eyes, she was something else entirely. Unique was probably the best word to describe her.

"How did you know to get milk?" he questioned curiously as he unscrewed the lid.

"That's what you bought when I stalked you before, but since that wasn't really enough to know what you like... I decided to look in your fridge. Since all you had in there was milk and other dairy products, it was safe for me to assume you would like it."

The blonde-haired man blinked slowly. When did she have the time to do that? He couldn't remember his eyes ever having left her. Had she managed to sneak into his apartment some other time without him knowing? Either way, he disregarded the questioning thoughts in his head in favor of taking a swig of the ice cold milk.

As he drank the gift she'd given him, Yomi shuffled over to his couch and collapsed onto it. She sprawled out across it and closed her eyes. "Ah," she groaned tiredly, "So exhausted..."

Lowering the glass rim from his lips, Shizuo frowned. "Go home. You're not welcome here."

Yomi slowly sat upright and looked over at him. "Is that because of all those rumors? Shi-chan doesn't want people to think he has a girlfriend?" There was that mischievous look on her face that made Shizuo not want to answer.

Though he'd heard the rumors circulating through Ikebukuro, Shizuo didn't pay much attention to them. "Yeah, that's it," he lied unconvincingly, averting his eyes from her. "If you understand, go home." The blonde-haired man quickly lifted the bottle of milk to his lips and started to chug the rest.

"Then there's no problem if I am your girlfriend, right?"

Her question came as such a shock that he spewed the milk out all over the floor. Girlfriend? _Girlfriend?_ The word didn't quite register in his head as he stared at her wide-eyed.

A guttural sound like a laugh came from the back of her throat as she smirked at him. Yomi hopped off the couch and danced across his floor in her tennis shoes, spinning in circles until she arrived directly in front of him. She had to crane her neck to look up at him. "Just kidding! I couldn't date someone who smokes and chugs dairy all day. Well, see ya, Shi-chan!" Her hand waved directly in front of his face, though he remained too stunned to move, and Yomi soon darted out of his apartment.

The bottle he'd been holding cracked and then shattered. Shards of the broken glass sliced through his palm. Blood splattered across the floor as he opened his hand and examined the wound. "Need some superglue," he muttered.

Meanwhile, back on the streets of Ikebukuro where the sun had already descended and night had taken its place, Yomi was skipping back toward her apartment. She had resumed the melody she had been humming before as she went, quite oblivious to her surroundings as she went along. The lights of the city were a blur that passed her by.

Maneuvering through the streets of Ikebukuro that were like a maze to her, it took a while to return home. Yomi didn't seem to mind her spur of the moment detours and shortcuts which had inevitably taken longer than they were supposed to. She was just happy to be back in front of her apartment.

Digging through her pocket, she pulled out the key set as she stood in front of her door. When Yomi lifted her gaze with the small silver key in her hand, she paused. "Oh?" Stuck in the side of her door was a folded envelope. She pulled it out and glanced from the back to the front, noticing that there was no address or postage. It had to have been delivered directly. All she could see was the name Inoue scribbled across the front.

Yomi glanced around to make sure no one else was present. She quickly unlocked the door to her apartment and slipped inside, securing it shut behind her before shuffling into the main room of her apartment. Plopping down on one of the poorly stuffed cushions beside her table, she tore open the envelope. The folded letter within was very brief. It cited a meeting location and said, "Make sure you're there tomorrow," at the bottom.

"Don't worry, Letter-san," she whispered to it as she folded it up. "I'll make sure I'm there." Her lips brushed against the letter as she smiled. Tomorrow couldn't come quick enough...

—

He already had his jacket on, hands stuffed in his pockets, ready to shoot out the door. Lately he had been in and out more than usual without speaking a word of his obviously sinister plans. It made her feel a little uneasy. "You're not starting trouble again, are you?" she asked from her spot on his couch, thumbing through paperwork. The woman didn't even bother to look up at him as she posed the question. She already knew the answer; there was never a time when Izaya _wasn't_ starting trouble.

The tall, slender man paused briefly in front of the front door and glanced back at her. "Just going to watch a show, Namie-san," he told her in an innocent voice with a mischievous grin that betrayed his tone. In truth it was just his roundabout way of saying yes.

As soon as the door opened and he skipped out of it, Namie breathed a sigh. It was barely afternoon and already he was up to no good. She had a bad feeling about this...

In another part of Ikebukuro, traveling beside the bustling cars and navigating between the busy streets, was a tall blonde-haired man who had a particularly sullen expression on his face. His fists were shoved into the pockets of his bartender suit as he trudged behind another man.

The brown-haired man walking ahead of him glanced back. "You're not smoking, Shizuo?"

His lips tightened. "Cutting back," he mumbled almost incomprehensibly. "Doesn't really matter..." Although he tried to dismiss the significance of not smoking, it was clearly putting him in a bad mood. Shizuo's nicotine addiction ran deep.

Even though Tom had no intentions of prying, he mused silently to himself that there was probably more to Shizuo "cutting back" than he would admit. He wondered to himself if it involved a girl, but even Tom who seemed to understand Shizuo better than most, simply couldn't picture it...

On the opposite side of the intersection that the two were passing through was a girl dealing with something not entirely unrelated to them. Although it was a Saturday, Anri Sonohara had declined her friend's invitations to hangout in order to use Saika to try and obtain information relevant to the death of Hiro Inoue.

She was meeting with a burly man in his mid-twenties, dressed fully in street wear that gave the impression of an involvement in a gang. His eyes seemed glassy and unfocused as he stared at the girl in front of him. Every time he spoke it was almost robotic.

"What information did you find out?" she asked in a quiet whisper, her eyes constantly scanning the area around them to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"Several people said that he was involved with an underground group."

_Involved with the yakuza?_ Anri narrowed her eyes. It had been more difficult than she had thought it would be to get information on this Hiro Inoue, and unexpectedly the information she was able to get was practically useless. It was tidbits that she could easily guess by herself. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

He shook his head stiffly.

It was disappointing to see that he had nothing else to share, but Anri knew he was telling the truth. "Alright," she said with a reluctant nod. "I'll meet you again here in a few days. See if you can find anything else."

"Yes, Mother."

On the outskirts of Ikebukuro in the loft of an abandoned building, two reddish-brown eyes were peering out a dirt-glazed window. Long, slender fingers drifted through the air and pressed against the cool glass. Izaya Orihara smiled to himself as he saw an approaching silhouette through the dim sunlight. The sky was smeared with gray clouds that made it difficult for the rays of the sun to break through.

"As expected," he breathed out in a quiet whisper. The black-haired man turned his grinning face toward the inside of the dilapidated warehouse. Peering down through the rafters he saw the figure of a man who kept nervously glancing at the watch on his wrist.

Precisely at that moment the metal doors creaked open and the sound of footsteps echoed through the warehouse. The man who had been waiting looked up from his watch, unable to make out the figure of the person who had just entered because they were still hidden amongst the shadows cast by the poorly-lit building. He breathed a sigh and rolled his sleeve back down over his watch. "You're late, Hiro-kun."

When Yomi stepped into the dim light streaming down from the cracked ceiling, which barely managed to illuminate her face and figure, the man looked in abject horror.

"W-who are you?" he gasped out in surprise. "You shouldn't be here."

She smiled at him and reached into her pocket, producing the note that she had received the night before. "You invited me, silly."

His brown eyes were as wide as saucers as he stared at her, dumbfounded. "Invited you?" The man furrowed his brows. "No, that was for-" But he cut himself off suddenly as a look of grim realization came across his face. "If you're here, does that mean that Hiro-kun was really murdered?"

"It's good that you're so familiar with Hiro-chan." Yomi's eyes closed briefly as her smile widened. "That must mean that the two of you were close. You must be in that organization like he was, right?" The way she asked sounded so innocent, and while Izaya wasn't the least bit fooled, the man standing across from Yomi seemed unaware of her true nature.

"You shouldn't be involved," he said to her in forceful voice. The man frowned. "Keep your nose out of this. If you go poking around then something bad might happen to you. Since you must have been important to Hiro-kun, don't let that happen." He seemed to shake his head with a look of remorse and guilt on his face as he trudged forward.

Just as he was about to brush past her, Yomi reached out and grabbed the man's wrist. In one quick motion she forced him to the ground. His knees crashed against the concrete flooring as the man yelped in pain. Before he had a chance to struggle she had grabbed his other arm and pressed her foot firmly against his back. In this position it was impossible for him to move. The sole of her shoe dug into the skin of his back.

"Sorry, mister," she said in a sing-song voice. "I'm really not feeling very patient today. It's regrettable, but... You'll have to give me the information I'm looking for."

Obviously the man wasn't entirely unused to this kind of treatment. He didn't seem particularly afraid of her, sure that he could either trick her, out maneuver her, or at the very least overpower her. "If you don't want to meet the same end as Hiro-kun, I would suggest you stay out of it."

Her fingers were surprisingly smooth and gave him the chills as they slipped down the length of his arm to his wrist and then to his fingers. "Too bad, mister," she whispered in that girlishly high-pitched voice of hers. "That's the wrong answer."

**Crack!**

A shrill scream rang out through the warehouse as the man quickly tried to shake her loose. This proved impossible; Yomi just strengthened her grip on his arms and increased the pressure of her foot against his back. Despite looking like a weakling, she was threatening to dislocate his shoulders if he kept thrashing about. Pain was coursing through his left hand where she'd snapped one of his fingers.

The man bit his lip through the pain, trying to hold back his whimpers through the agony. His face remained contorted in anguish as he hung limply in Yomi's grip. Although he gave the appearance that he'd given up fighting her, it seemed he still had no intention of giving her the answers she sought.

"I hope you'll tell me what I want to hear now, mister. I would hate to break another one of your fingers. That would make me really sad, you know. You don't want me to be sad, do you?"

He gritted his teeth while glancing back at her. There was still a fiery determination in his eyes.

A maniacal grin appeared on Yomi's face. "Still being stubborn?" she remarked incredulously. The pressure on his arm increased to an unbearable point, just at the edge of being ripped right out of its socket.

Unable to withstand the pain anymore, the man cried out, "What do you want to know?"

Delighted that he had given up so easily, Yomi slowly eased her foot off of his back. "I'm glad you see it my way, mister." Her fingers were still tightly gripping his arms and keeping them in place. There was still no opportunity for escape. Clearly she didn't trust him not to make a run for it if she did release him. "What kind of organization is it that you and Hiro-chan were involved in?"

"A crime syndicate," he rasped, still experiencing the sharp shooting pain in his broken finger.

Yomi didn't seem particularly pleased by his answer. She suddenly jabbed her foot into his back and yanked his arms backward.

He screamed again. "What do you want? I told you!"

"Sorry, mister, I don't like your answer," she said sweetly. "Why would my Hiro-chan be involved in an organization like that? What was he doing there? And why was he specifically singled out?" Yomi spat out the last of the sentence in a bitter, venomous tone that dripped with unrecognizable hatred and anger.

Her instability was of no reassurance to the man at her mercy. His entire body was trembling in both fear and pain. Through gasping breaths, he told her desperately, "I'm sorry... I don't know. I really don't know. Please... Just let me go."

"Wrong again."

**Crack!**

The sickening sound drifted through the air and was closely followed by yet another scream. This time Yomi released him, and with a thud the man collapse onto the ground, holding his hand close to his chest, writhing in agony. He whimpered upon seeing his two fingers, bent backward at an odd angle.

As he struggled across the floor, Yomi reached down and slipped her fingers into one of his bulging pockets and withdrew his wallet. "Ah! Look at this, you have so much money, mister..." Yomi rummaged through the credit cards and identification cards, eventually coming across a picture. "Oh, how sweet," she cooed.

It looked like a family portrait. The man she had so brutally tortured for information was in it alongside a beautiful woman in a flattering dress. They were holding hands while standing in front of two children who seemed to mirror their parents perfectly; a family of four.

"How cute." The tone of her voice betrayed her words. She obviously didn't think so. "You have a wife and two children, mister."

Panicking, he jerked his head up to look at her. There were tears in the man's eyes. "Please," he sputtered out in a hoarse gasp, "Don't do anything to them..."

A look of mock surprise came across Yomi's face. "Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "I think you misunderstood me, mister. There's no way I would do anything to your family. Not as long as you keep quiet, that is. I wouldn't want anything to happen to your pretty wife and your adorable little kids."

His jaw trembled. "Will you let me go...?"

Yomi folded his wallet back up and pocketed it. The picture of the man's family remained cradled in her open hand. She crumpled it in her fist. "Don't be silly, mister, I would never do anything to a friend of Hiro-chan's. You are completely free to leave." As she opened her hand the picture fell through the air and fluttered down toward the man, falling onto his chest.

Not wanting to forsake the mercy she'd given him, the man grabbed the picture and scrambled to his feet. He didn't seem to think about trying to fight her for his wallet. Whether that was because he was in pain or he was simply too intimidated by her to try didn't matter. The man took his opportunity and quickly raced out of the warehouse.

The sound of applause from the rafters above drew Yomi's attention. She squinted through the dim light and the impenetrable darkness that provided only a dim outline of the person standing there. "Bravo!" a man's voice trilled at her in an almost mocking laughter.

"Hey there, mister," she called back in a cheerful voice. There was no hint of the maliciousness she'd shown just a few minutes ago. "I hope you enjoyed the show."

"A bit predictable," he scrutinized. Yomi still couldn't see his face, but there was a sarcastic tone to his voice as he spoke. "Try and entertain me more in the future."

It was a little frustrating that she couldn't see him, and Yomi found herself curious about the face of the person that had been watching her. "Since you went out of your way to come here, mister, then there must be something you want. What is it?"

"Tsk, tsk. You don't have any manners, do you? Asking questions already and you don't even know my name."

Smiling blithely at him, Yomi slowly reached into her pocket. In the blink of an eye she'd pulled out a pistol and aimed it in the direction of the man's silhouette. His eyes seemed to gleam through the darkness, which made him easy enough to spot. "People like you... I just call them annoying."

"How mean!" He feigned a gasp. "I wonder if Hiro-chan knew his girlfriend was so discourteous?"

Yomi was genuinely frowning at this point, although she reluctantly tucked the gun back into her jacket pocket. "Well, you can't be terrible if you know Hiro-chan," she reasoned. "Alright, mister. Tell me your name."

"Izaya Orihara." The moment after his name left his lips, the hidden man leaped through the air. He landed gracefully, not unlike a cat would, on his feet with his knees slightly bent. When he looked up at her, he offered a mocking, deceitful smile that would make any normal person's skin crawl.

Her eyes moved over him, assessing the power of what could possibly be an opponent. Like most people, he was taller than her and lean. The fur-lined jacket he was wearing was a bit peculiar, but it was perhaps his face which stood out the most. He was unexpectedly young and handsome for what Yomi assumed to be some kind of street thug.

He strode forward with a bouncy gait that reminded Yomi of herself. When he came to stop in front of her, he was little more than a foot away. "You're really creating quite a stir with those three high school kids poking around everywhere about things they shouldn't."

She grinned back at him. "So you know about that, Uzaya*-chan?"

Izaya disregarded the nickname while smirking at her. He slowly circled around her, his eyes silently scrutinizing every part of her. "I know a lot more than that." His voice was as smooth as silk, which made it all the more suspicious.

"Then you know about Hiro-chan." Yomi stood still, not even bothering to follow Izaya with her gaze. She didn't feel threatened by him.

He stopped in front of her. "Certainly, certainly."

Yomi got the feeling that he wasn't going to offer up anything freely. He was one of those types. Disappointed at this, she sighed. "You're one of those kinds, huh? You won't give me anything if I don't pay the appropriate price. Unfortunately, Uzaya-chan, I don't have anything you want. Not even enough money to buy you a meal."

Suddenly Izaya started walking toward the door in that brisk pace of his that seemed so purposeful, but then he suddenly stopped and turned toward her. Now walking backward toward the door, he said, "Very smart, Yomi-chan! If next time we meet you can provide me more amusement, then maybe I'll give you some information." He pointed a finger toward her and winked before turning back toward the door. Just as he slipped out of it, he gave her a slight wave. "See ya!"

Once he was gone, Yomi slowly blinked while wondering out loud, "How did he know my name...?"

* * *

**Author's Note: **And now we see a little more as to what lengths Yomi will go to in order to get information on Hiro. Unfortunately I epic failed at writing Izaya here. It was my first time writing him. I'm gradually getting better I promise. :) Any suggestions on how to improve with him are greatly appreciated. Big thanks for the support self helpless and ElleEctricity, as well as my beta readers.

**Uzaya* - **For those who don't know, Uzaya is a popular nickname for Izaya in Japan taken from the word uzai which means noisy. Yomi calls him Uzaya because she thinks he is annoying.


	4. Crowned Queen

Chapter 04 - Crowned Queen

"You can take tomorrow off."

They were trudging down the street with the setting sun as a backdrop. His blue-shaded sunglasses protected him from the blinding rays. The last assignment of the day had been finished and their usual routine had ended. It was normally sporadic when Shizuo got a day off, more often at the slower times of the year when they didn't have debt to collect.

"Ah," Shizuo responded dully with a bored look on his face. "I'll see you the day after tomorrow, then." The two parted and the blonde-haired man, clad in his bartender outfit, slumped visibly as he headed back toward his apartment. He was itching for a cigarette, as he had been all day.

Why did he even listen to what _that_ girl had said? Perhaps he'd never had a date before, he couldn't deny that. Was it really because he smoked? Shizuo frowned. Listening to her just gave him a headache. He should have ignored it. Not that ignoring her did any good. No one had ever been quite as persistent as Yomi. Shizuo wasn't use to such stubbornness.

"Ungh," he groaned. His feet were dragging against the pavement. As soon as he got home he was definitely going to smoke.

As he trudged up the metal staircase to the second story of his apartment building, he wondered if she would be there. _Again._ It seemed likely; she was almost always there every time he came home from work. Because of Yomi he hadn't had a peaceful rest in almost a week. Wait... Had it already been a week?

He looked down at his hand. Tom had been kind enough to bandage it for him earlier. Apparently Tom didn't feel the superglue was sufficient enough. It wasn't the first time Shizuo had crushed a glass bottle and slit his hand open with the broken shards, though. "Going to need more superglue," he mumbled. Especially if Yomi kept coming to visit him.

The moment he reached the top of the stairwell, he heard a familiar, cheerful voice. "Welcome home, Shi-chan!"

Shizuo was far past recognizing her greetings with a response. How many times had he said, "Oh, it's you again," or, "Oh, you're here again," or something along those lines. He was too conditioned to her erratic behavior and eccentric antics to pay them much mind anymore.

Like always, the moment he unlocked his door and opened it, she shot right inside without even pausing to see if she was welcome. Yomi had very little sense. It was a wonder how or why she didn't sneak in to begin with. He breathed a sigh as he shuffled into his kitchen. Milk, he needed milk. It was an immediate relief to his insatiable thirst. Afterward he would have a smoke, then even Yomi might not be able to get under his skin.

He perused the contents of his refrigerator before finally plucking a glass bottle of milk off the shelf. The door closed with a softened thud as he twisted the cap off. In record speed, he managed to chug the entire bottle. Yomi watched from behind him without saying a word until finally he finished.

"Did you have a good day, Shi-chan? I did!"

His neck craned back, those small brown eyes of his glaring at her for a moment as he grunted in response. "Mm." It wasn't much of an indication of how his day was, but Shizuo didn't have interest in such idle banter. Especially not with someone like her.

Yomi didn't seem disheartened by his disinterest. Rather, she plopped down into one of the rickety old chairs at his repaired table. She picked at the superglue holding it together while shifting uncomfortably. The cushioning of the chair was ripped apart and uneven, leaving much to be desired. Since Shizuo rarely sat down to eat (and especially not with guests) he never noticed.

"When is your next day off, Shi-chan?" she asked abruptly. Those eyes of hers were looking at him so earnestly that it was almost a little unnerving.

Shizuo averted his gaze. That imploring look only served to annoy him. "Tomorrow," he said honestly, though he knew he'd probably regret it. He shuffled into the dining room with the now empty bottle in his hand. Before reaching into his pocket for a cigarette, he set the glass on the table.

"Let's go on a date!"

The cigarette dropped from his fingers and landed on the floor, rolling between his feet. Shizuo glanced down at it and blinked. Should he pick it up or maybe he should just get a new one...? Then slowly the realization that Yomi was asking him on a date seeped in. It was a strange feeling, not unlike having the flu. His stomach twisted in knots as his brows furrowed, trying to figure out just what it was that he was feeling and what exactly she expected him to say.

A date? He was only vaguely aware of what that even was. No one had ever asked him before and he certainly had never had the opportunity to ask someone else. So what was he supposed to do? "A date?" he echoed his own thoughts audibly, looking to Yomi for some kind of clarification. Surely he had to have heard her wrong.

"Yeah, a date. Where the two of us go out together and have fun. Oh! Like if I was your girlfriend. That kind of a date." She grinned unabashedly at him.

This was definitely way over his head. Shizuo was ill-equipped to handle such a matter. His brain couldn't even quite comprehend what was happening or even how to respond. There was only one solution for a situation like this: call Shinra.

He turned his back toward Yomi and marched over to the phone hanging on the wall. Shizuo swiped it right off the hook and placed the receiver to his ears. His fingers clumsily nudged every button and he waited impatiently for Shinra to pick up.

"Hello?" he answered on the other end at last, after four whole rings that Shizuo had painstakingly counted out.

"I'm being asked on a date," Shizuo announced in a superfluously solemn tone.

Silence ensued, Shinra was obviously at a loss for words.

Sitting at the table, Yomi was kicking her legs like a child while wiggling in her seat and humming to herself. She didn't seem to be bothered that Shizuo had abruptly left to make a phone call, right in front of her no less, after she issued her "invitation."

"With a girl?" Shinra tried to clarify, sounding dumbfounded.

Not catching onto the obvious insinuation, Shizuo grimly nodded to himself as he whispered a heavy, "Yeah." It was as equally unbelievable for himself as it was for Shinra.

There was a pause on the other end and Shizuo could hear Shinra's voice, albeit muffled, apparently talking to Celty. "Shizuo just got asked on a date..." Judging by the way he mumbled the sentence, he was still utterly mystified. But the short interruption didn't last long before Shinra turned his attention back to Shizuo and asked, "So who's the girl?" At least this time he sounded his usual chipper self.

Shizuo glanced back at Yomi for a moment, a bit apprehensive. He was literally being asked on a date by his own stalker, but even he had enough sense not to slap that kind of label on her when she was in the same room. "The girl who has been following me around." Or maybe he did, just inadvertently.

"So she likes you, huh?" Although he couldn't see Shinra, Shizuo imagined there was an impish grin on the doctor's face as he asked the question.

"You," Shizuo said abruptly as he turned toward Yomi, addressing her rudely and not even bothering to use her name. "Do you like me?"

Her face lit up. "Of course!" she responded enthusiastically. "I really like you, Shi-chan."

"She says she does." The way Shizuo seemed to mumble the answer dully into the phone signified his lack of interest. To Shinra it seemed a bit anticlimactic for what was undoubtedly a rare occasion - one that, in fact, he suspected might never happen to Shizuo again. At least not given his destructive tendencies.

Shinra chuckled nervously at his friend. "Then... Do you like her?"

To an ordinary person it might have been a simple question, to Shizuo Heiwajima it was anything but. The only thing he could come up with was, "I don't know." Dislike and hate were words used exclusively for the flea, so he couldn't say he particularly disliked Yomi. But she _really_ pissed him off. He was always breaking things when she was around and he was certain it was no coincidence. Though he didn't voice these thoughts to Shinra.

"Does your heart beat any faster when you're around her? Does your face become hot? Palms sweaty? Anything like that?" Shinra was quite obviously grasping for straws. Those were probably emotions that Shizuo hadn't experienced.

Shizuo contemplated the questions carefully, however. Considering that when she made him angry he had a sudden adrenalin rush, his heart _did_ beat faster. Usually his face did become red when he flew into a rage, which meant it was hot. Though he wasn't really sure about sweaty palms; usually they were just bloody. Nonetheless these seemed to be the indications Shinra was looking for. "Yes," he answered at last, "All of those things..."

"Aha!" Shinra exclaimed in a hearty laugh. "Shizuo likes a girl." He seemed to be saying it more toward Celty than Shizuo.

The blonde-haired man who still had the phone pressed firmly against his ear, glanced back at Yomi as the laughter slowly died down on the other end of the line. He waited for Shinra to calm down before he asked, "So what do I do?" It was a question he posed with such grave seriousness that it was laughable.

The doctor had a hard time suppressing his amusement as he spoke. "Go on the date with her..." He paused for a moment and there was a light tapping noise in the background, as though Celty was typing out a hasty message for Shinra to pass on. "Oh! Celty wanted me to tell you not to worry. We'll tag along with you to help make sure everything goes smoothly." To any other person (who was less oblivious) this would have sounded like a disaster in the works. Anyone other than Shizuo would have known to politely decline Shinra's offer. Unfortunately for Shizuo, he wasn't aware of how clumsy and unhelpful his two friends would come to be. "You can call later with the details," Shinra added in a cheerful voice before hanging up.

"So what's the verdict, Shi-chan? Are we going on a date?"

He blinked slowly as he returned the phone to its holder. Shizuo turned robotically toward Yomi, still a bit disoriented by what she'd asked him as well as the phone conversation he just had. For one of the rarest of occasions, since he wore them almost all the time, Shizuo took off his shades. It was the first time he'd seen Yomi without the blue film that had pigmented her pale face.

The skin on his forehead crinkled while he tried to process what had just happened. His gaze focused on Yomi; those vibrant blue eyes of hers and her disheveled hair that hadn't seen a brush in a week. His lips tightened. "Yeah," he mumbled at last.

Yomi didn't seem to mind his lack of enthusiasm. She cheerfully clapped her hands together. "Wonderful!"

In his obliviousness, Shizuo didn't even think to ask _why_ Yomi was asking him out on a date. He had only unquestioningly and blindly followed Shinra's advice, accepting the invitation without any thought to the implications of it. It hadn't even occurred to him that, because he had no experience in dating or a girl, he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

Though he did have enough sense to ask two distinctly important things in regards to dating. "Where and when?" The question was short and abrupt; Shizuo felt awkward asking. He still wasn't sure what to think of going on a... "date." Dates were reserved for couples – people that were "together" - who enjoyed doing things with each other. Although what they did together and the purpose of dating in the first place was a mystery to Shizuo.

But he didn't question exactly how it was that both Yomi and Shinra had conned him into going. Not because Shizuo was too slow to catch on but more that he was too preoccupied trying to grasp the situation he'd been suddenly thrust into.

"Hm..." Yomi tapped her finger to her lips thoughtfully. Those blue eyes of hers rolled up and she seemed to stare at the ceiling as she rocked back and forth in the chair. Her expression gave the impression that she was thinking hard about where she wanted to go, but her answer betrayed that, "I don't know!"

Almost immediately Shizuo thought to reach for the phone.

She seemed to notice him eyeing it and said suddenly, "Just kidding! Of course I know where I want to go, Shi-chan." Yomi flashed him a bright smile that faltered as she then continued on with, "Well, not really... Since I just came to Ikebukuro recently, I have no idea where anything is. That's why I asked you on a date. You can show me around, Shi-chan!"

Her ulterior motives were now out in the open, but Shizuo didn't seem to mind even though she admitted to using him. Since he didn't understand the idea of dating in the first place, her reasoning seemed logical enough. It was true that he knew the area. Walking around with Tom had given him more extensive knowledge than even living in Ikebukuro since childhood had.

"I'd better leave." Yomi seemed a bit disappointed as she gazed out the window. It was getting late into the night already. She heaved a sigh, for once not wearing that unnaturally cheerful look on her face. "Mikado-chan will be heading home soon from his outing today to hang out with Masaomi-kun. I definitely have to catch him." There was determination in her eyes as she nodded to herself.

To Shizuo those names sounded familiar, though he couldn't match them to faces. But this time he did feel a vague inclination of curiosity. "You have friends?" It sounded almost accusatory but it was a genuine question.

She beamed back at him. "Yep! He's my neighbor, so I watch him when he leaves in the morning and at night when he comes home."

Well, it was a bit of relief that he wasn't the only person she stalked. Though a bit creepy to think that she stalked everyone with just as much persistence as she had with Shizuo. It gave him a bitter taste in his mouth. But he wasn't one to chide her for her own odd quirks when he knew it would be hypocritical; he had his own unique attributes that made him a bit unusual, too. Perhaps in that way he and Yomi were alike.

"I'll come by in the morning, Shi-chan! Just wait for me, 'kay? About ten o'clock - ten o'clock in the afternoon." Yomi scooted out of the chair which scraped against the tile. She skipped out of the room after flashing Shizuo a large, unabashed grin. "Make sure you're ready!" she called back before opening the front door and slamming it shut behind her.

Once she was officially gone, Shizuo breathed a sigh. He needed a smoke.

—

He almost didn't recognize her when he peeked out the peephole. Shizuo was a little hesitant to open his door. Yomi looked vastly different when she groomed her hair back into a low ponytail and applied makeup to her face. She didn't look like the unclean, creepy stalker he was used to. Even her clothes had changed for the occasion. She wasn't wearing the baggy boy's clothes he'd seen her in before. Instead she had on a flattering red blouse and slim fitting jeans. Although she wasn't specifically "dressed up," so to speak, she at least had cleaned herself up enough to look presentable for their "date."

With Shizuo's lack of awareness, he didn't feel even the slightest bit self conscious about the fact that he was dressed as plainly as always. He was wearing his ordinary bartender suit with blue shades hiding away his eyes.

"You look different," he remarked dully as he stared at her, still standing in his doorway.

A grin spread across her colored lips, which she had apparently painted a glossy pink shade. "Even I know how to put on makeup, Shi-chan. I thought that since this is a special occasion I would dress nice for you."

It was a bit surprising to hear that. No one had gone out of their way to dress nicely just for him before. Maybe this was part of the whole dating thing. "Is that so?" he asked, more to himself than her.

Yet Yomi felt obliged to answer. "Nope! Actually I don't want people to recognize me later. So this is a disguise, a disguise! Do you think it's a good one?" Her head tilted at him questioningly.

Shizuo didn't seem to register that she had insinuated that she didn't want to be seen with him. He just nodded awkwardly at her. "Yeah, I guess so."

The black-haired girl fluttered her eyelashes at him and then lunged toward him. She looped her arm around his and tugged at him to try to coerce him to follow her. "Come on, come on," she urged in a pouting, childish tone.

If he hadn't already gotten used to it, it probably would've annoyed him. The blue-eyed girl's antics didn't have much of an effect on Shizuo anymore, however. As long as she wasn't outright insulting him he could tolerate her - to some degree, anyways. Though sometimes it required a cigarette. At the very thought, he patted his chest pocket with his free hand. The full box which he had especially prepared for this occasion was there in case his need for tobacco overwhelmed his attempts to cut back. (In other words, he wanted cigarettes handy in case he came close to raging on Yomi... Again.)

"I need to lock my door," he muttered, resisting Yomi's attempts to yank him along. Shizuo easily slipped out of her grasp, reaching for the key in his pocket.

"No need," she insisted. "It doesn't do you much good to lock your door, Shi-chan, when your window is unlocked!"

"It's the second story. The only way anyone would enter through the window is if they scaled the side of..." His voice trailed off as her words registered in his head. Suddenly there was an explanation for how she'd looked in his fridge when he hadn't noticed. Shizuo quickly made a mental note to make sure to lock the window in the future. To _always_ lock that window in the future.

Yomi continued to smile blithely at him as though she didn't realize just how odd her actions were. "Are you finished?" she asked him eagerly.

Silently he debated whether or not to slip back into the apartment and lock the door behind him. This whole date thing was turning into a _really_ bad idea. Even Shizuo had enough sense to realize that Yomi was on a whole new level of peculiar, odd, and creepy. But he also knew that she was relentless in her stalking. It was easier just to give up.

He sighed. "Yeah..."

While the small girl, whose head barely came up to his shoulders, tugged him along, Shizuo slipped the key back into his pocket. The two of them descended the metal stairs together. The sound of their shoes clomping against the steel chimed in unison. As soon as they reached the street, Yomi paused suddenly. "So where to, Shi-chan?"

Though he himself hadn't put much thought into where in Ikebukuro it was best to show a girl around on a date, Shizuo had asked Shinra. (At the time he didn't realize how much he would come to regret relying blindly upon his "friend's" advice.) "Ah, this way..." Nonetheless, he trudged down the street with his arm involuntarily linked with Yomi's, both hands stuffed into the depths of his pockets.

The particular part of Ikebukuro that Shinra had referred Shizuo to, Sunshine City, was known for being popular with couples. It was renowned and well-known for being a "city within a city," touting a shopping mall, theatre, and observatory. Coincidentally it was also the place Shizuo had visited the least. Not that he made a point of avoiding it. The only times he wandered there, however, was when he was accompanying Tom while he was on the job.

"La, la, la..." Yomi was singing to herself, particularly off tune, as she skipped along beside Shizuo. It was probably because he was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, glaring ahead, that he didn't notice.

Either way the two of them were drawing unnoticed glances from passersby. People seemed to purposefully avoid the "couple." Most likely because of the far off look on Yomi's face that made her seem coo coo, and the way Shizuo seemed to unintentionally sneer at every person that looked their way.

The hum of a motorbike behind them that seemed to have been following them for a block caught Shizuo's attention. Yomi was still too wrapped up in the made-up melody she was belting out that she didn't seem to notice. The blonde-haired man immediately spotted the headless rider and the grinning Shinra behind her that flashed him a thumbs up.

"Are we almost there, Shi-chan?"

His head jerked around and he looked down at her. Those blue doe eyes were peering up at him expectantly. "Aah..." Shizuo bobbed his head in a slight nod, a little distracted by the two that were following him a little too... Indiscreetly.

"It's strange to see you without a cigarette, Shi-chan."

Shizuo's eye twitched in annoyance. Why was she complaining about him _not_ smoking when she always complained about how it smelled when he did? "You kept commenting on it," he explained impatiently.

"Of course I'm happy," she assured with a sweet smile. He was mildly surprised that she didn't follow it up with another jab about how gross smoking was or how badly he smelled when smoked. Yomi was being surprisingly well-behaved. It was a bit of relief. Maybe she was actually pleasant to be around as long as she wasn't- "Hey, Shi-chan, do you hear...?" Her head started to turn to glance back.

He suddenly yanked her forward, quickening his pace to keep Yomi's focus. "Nope. Don't hear a thing." Why couldn't they - Celty and Shinra - be just a _bit_ more subtle?

Much to Shizuo's chagrin, they arrived at a crosswalk just as the light turned red. No longer could he silently hope that she wouldn't notice the two peculiar figures following them. If he wanted to keep her preoccupied, he would have to engage her in conversation. (Which definitely meant he was in trouble; conversation was _not_ something Shizuo was particularly skilled at.)

"Bakeries," he said suddenly. It was the first thing that popped into his mind. Shizuo felt a little awkward afterward... "We should... Go to a bakery." That wasn't quite what he had in mind as a distraction...

Yomi seemed delighted by his words, though. "A bakery? Really?" Her eyes seemed to light up. "You know me so well, Shi-chan. I love pastries!"

His brows furrowed. Actually, he didn't know anything about her. The thought that she might (or might not) like baked goods hadn't even crossed his mind. He had no intentions of correcting her, however, if that's what she wanted to believe.

"Hurry up, Shi-chan," she whined at him, tugging on his arm with the both of her hands.

This trip was already proving more exhausting than he'd anticipated. Shizuo reluctantly allowed Yomi to pull him along. The light had changed and so the two of them made their way quickly through the crosswalk, with Yomi bouncing gaily the whole time. Since he had mentioned a bakery, she seemed to be exceptionally hyper. Even more so than usual.

The whole time he could hear Celty and Shinra not far behind, following them far closer than was needed. He and Yomi rounded a corner and immediately after Yomi froze in the middle of the sidewalk and the bustling people around them.

"Look," she gasped, her finger pointing toward a store just shortly ahead of them.

Shizuo's gaze followed the direction she was motioning toward. His eyes widened in a look of horror. "That?" He almost squeaked the word out in disbelief.

It was a bakery, just as Shizuo had promised her... Painted a pastel pink with pastries displayed in the window. They were decorated excessively in the most girlish shades of icing with frilly, fancy designs. Just looking at it made him want to turn and run. Any man with any amount of pride would _never_ be caught dead entering such a shop. Least of all Shizuo Heiwajima.

"We have to go in there!"

That earned her a death glare. "No." It was a loud and resounding refusal. Shizuo would allow no room for discussion. Even if - god forbid - Izaya was in that shop, which even the flea wouldn't do something that disgustingly embarrassing, Shizuo was not going to enter it. Ever.

"Please?" she begged sincerely.

However effective such a cute pleading might have been with any ordinary man, it was utterly useless with Shizuo. He wasn't even looking at Yomi. His two brown eyes were glued on that disgustingly painted shop. "I'm not going in there."

Obviously disappointed by his refusal, Yomi frowned. "You're such a meanie, Shi-chan. Fine, then you don't have to come in with me. Just wait for me and I'll get us something really good, okay?"

That pleading look on her face was, admittedly, difficult to resist for even Shizuo. He reluctantly gave a slight nod. "Hurry up." The blonde-haired man crossed his arms over his chest, growling under his breath while she skipped off. Behind him the sound of Celty's motorcycle grew louder as both she and Shinra rolled up beside him.

"She looks like a girl and likes girl things," the doctor marveled with a look of absolute astonishment. He adjusted the glasses on his nose, his mouth slightly agape as he sat with one arm hooked around Celty's waist to keep him steadied on the motorcycle.

Seeming equally surprised, the dullahan gave a nod of agreement. She whipped out her PDA and quickly typed out, _"It looks like it's going well... You were walking arm in arm."_ The way she wrote it made her sound like a typical woman - romanticizing it. As though she was envious of it.

To Shizuo, there was nothing pleasant about such close contact with someone who had as many screws loose as Yomi. (Of course, when it came to Shizuo, such close contact with _anyone_ was awkward.)

"What's her name?" Shinra asked curiously with an interested gleam in his eyes.

"Yomi." Her name sounded strange on his lips. Shizuo furrowed his brows. "Never said her last name."

"Ah! Mysterious..."

While Shinra seemed to fantasize to himself about the wonder of it all, Celty hastily typed out a message to Shizuo. _"She's the one who has been following you, right?" _When he gave a slight nod, she continued. _"Then she's also the one who was asking about Hiro Inoue?"_ Another nod. _"You should be careful..."_ She hesitated before typing out the last part. _"Izaya was asking about her."_

Though she hated to get in between her friends she also knew that Izaya was nothing short of trouble. If he was interested in Yomi it would end up involving Shizuo. When the two of them went at it other people inevitably got hurt. She didn't want to see that happen. Perhaps warning Shizuo would-

"Izaya?" he hissed in disbelief, his fingers curling into tight fists. Celty could see his knuckles turn white. "Izaya has been asking about her?" The anger sparked in his eyes as he stared at the headless rider.

"Ah! She's coming!" Shinra exclaimed urgently while nudging Celty.

The motorcycle indiscreetly wheeled forward as the two tried not to create too much distance from themselves and Shizuo, while at the same time trying to make it not so obvious that they were shadowing him and Yomi.

The black-haired girl who had just emerged from the shop was carrying sack with her. An exceptionally large grin had grown onto her lips as she happily skipped over toward Shizuo. It seemed as though she had seen Celty and Shinra, however, because she gazed after them and asked him, "Who were they?"

"Asking for directions," he lied unconvincingly. Shizuo adjusted his sun glasses while averting his eyes from her. He had never been good at anything other than telling the truth and being honest.

"Oh. Okay." But she was still willing to believe him. "Look what I got you, Shi-chan!" Suddenly she yanked a something from the sack before shoving it against his chest, too fast for him to even register what it was.

Before he saw the object in question, which turned out to be a glass of milk, he felt how cold it was when he grasped it with his hands. That alone was enough to give it away without so much as a glance. Suddenly he felt a bit guilty for refusing to go in with her but nevertheless thankful he had avoided it. "Ah... Thanks..." He hastily twisted the lid open. In record time Shizuo chugged the cool liquid, which quenched the thirst in his throat. While it wasn't a replacement for his cigarettes, it was the highlight of his morning so far.

"Do you like pastries, Shi-chan?" she asked cheerfully as she pulled out one that appeared to have frosting drizzled across it. Yomi bit into it without waiting for his answer. "Mm," she hummed out, savoring the taste.

Since he'd already had breakfast, Shizuo declined. He was still feeling a bit pissed off since Celty had mentioned Izaya's name earlier. Hearing about that flea always ruined his appetite. (Or made him throw things. Fortunately this time it was only the former of the two.)

They stood there as she finished her pastry, which took twice as long as it took Shizuo to down all of his milk. With nowhere else to put the empty glass bottle, he stuffed it in his pocket while waiting for Yomi to finish her pastry. As she took the last bite, she licked the frosting off of her fingers. Shizuo stared at her with a look of mild disgust. The way she ate so sloppily left some of the frosting smeared and dried around her lips.

"What?" she asked, noticing the intensity of his gaze.

He sighed. "Your face."

Yomi glanced into the bag, chagrined to find they had offered her no napkins. "Ah, seriously!" she exclaimed in frustration, stomping her foot emphatically. Then something caught her eye, and a grin spread across her lips. She shoved her finger in the direction near Shizuo's neck. "Your bow tie. Let me borrow it."

"Eh?" There was no way he was going to sacrifice a vital part of the outfit that his brother had bought for him just because Yomi had made a mess of herself. No matter how expectantly she looked at him with those doe eyes of hers he wouldn't be swayed. "No."

Rather than being disappointed, Yomi didn't seem disheartened at all. Instead she was smirking at him. "Ah, you don't want to let me borrow it... Would you rather lick the frosting off my face yourself, Shi-chan?"

He gagged, "What?"

Nearby Shizuo could hear Shinra trying to stifle his own laughter. Both he and Celty were lingering less than ten feet away, eavesdropping on the conversation.

Yomi leaned up onto her tip toes and turned her cheek toward him. She tapped at the frosting coating her skin and said, "Come on, Shi-chan. You don't want me to walk around looking like this, do you?"

Maybe it was surprise her to discover that, actually... He didn't care! But he was exasperated with her demands. Although he was unwilling, he unfastened the tie around his neck and held it out toward her. "Here," he hissed grudgingly.

"So sweet of you, Shi-chan!"

Thoroughly exasperated, Shizuo mentally thought to himself how bad of an idea this whole date thing had turned out to be. Whatever possessed most people to desire this had to be either a disease or some kind of incurable and yet dangerous illness. There was nothing even remotely alluring about spending a day with a tiresome person as one's companion. Least of all if it was Yomi.

Although he'd been temporarily distracted by his own inner thoughts, Shizuo was quickly pulled back to reality by Yomi... Who was bouncing up and down in front of him. Though he wasn't sure what she was trying to do, she was holding something up the air while trying to leap up to reach his head. It was _not_ working.

As she jumped the next time he held both hands out and caught her, right beneath the arms, and held her there. Yomi gasped in amazement while her feet dangled just above the pavement. "Wow, Shi-chan! That's some really good reflexes you have there." She smiled at him and leaned forward in his arms, placing something on the top of his head.

"What are you doing?" he demanded in an impatient tone.

"It's a paper crown. I thought it would look really cute on you, Shi-chan." Of course. A pink paper crown on his head, in the middle of a busy intersection where everyone could see. "Now you look kind of like a princess!" Great. That's just what he'd always wanted. (Sarcasm highly intended...)

Shizuo slowly lowered her back to the ground. It took every ounce of self-control to not just fling her into the glass storefront of her beloved pink bakery. He was gritting his teeth and grinding them while inwardly trying to convince himself that it was in his best interest to _not_ cause any destruction. Shinra had explicitly told him to keep his behavior in check while he was on this "date."

"Oh, Shi-chan, did you already drink all the milk?"

He blinked in mild surprise. "Ah, yeah... Did you want some?"

Yomi quickly shook her head. "No way! Why would I want to drink milk? Dairy is so disgusting!"

That was the last straw. He simply couldn't do it anymore. Shizuo's eyes turned toward the nearest traffic sign and right as he reached for it, he was stopped suddenly. Shinra had abandoned Celty's motorcycle and raced over to Shizuo's side, having anticipated the situation. The gray-eyed doctor whipped out something from his coat pocket, which to Shizuo was a white blur. He soon found out what it was, however. Apparently Shinra had thought to bring milk along with him in hopes it might pacify Shizuo in the event that things got out of hand. Unfortunately this was a mistake for two reasons. One, because Shinra had kept it in his pocket the whole time and it was now _warm_. Although it was common knowledge amongst Shizuo's friends that he had a penchant for dairy, he was not at all fond of _warm_ milk. Second, because since it was warm, Shizuo was gagging on it.

In other words, this just pissed him off further. Now his anger was turned toward Shinra instead of Yomi, who was skipping off into the distance obliviously after she'd made the rude comment that had started the whole mess.

After knocking Shinra off, Shizuo had managed to reach the traffic sign which he ripped out of the ground effortlessly and was now brandishing it toward his friend. Celty, too, had abandoned her motorcycle and was trying to intervene and calm Shizuo down.

The commotion gained Yomi's attention. She glanced over her shoulder and was mildly surprised to see Shizuo swinging a yellow traffic sign at what appeared to be a doctor. As though she was unaware of the insinuated danger, she skipped blithely over to Shizuo and threw her arms around him. "Shi-chan!"

All of the anger drained from his face, and Shizuo regained his senses. He was acutely aware that two slender arms were wrapped around his abdomen and that Yomi was clinging to him. It was feeling that was neither enjoyable nor unlikable. Regardless, it managed to save Shinra, who was sprawled out on the ground with wide eyes.

"Sorry..." Shizuo mumbled as he set the sign back into the hole that had been left behind when he'd so hastily ripped it out. Unfortunately, without being secured in place again, the sign tilted a bit to the side.

Yomi leaned out of the embrace and reached for Shizuo's hand. "Come on, Shi-chan," she cooed.

His shoulders slumped as he was pulled along, leaving his two dumbfounded friends behind. Dating was definitely a bad idea, he thought to himself. Celty and Shinra were probably inclined to agree with that now.

As he and Yomi continued down the street, they earned stares for entirely new reasons. Primarily because of the pink paper crown on Shizuo's head that he had completely forgotten about. Even through all the motion it stayed faithfully upon the top of his head.


	5. Exchanging Losses and Wins

**Chapter 05 - Exchanging Losses and Wins**

"You don't have to try so hard, you know, Shi-chan. It's okay with me if you smoke."

Those words came as a great relief as they trudged down the bustling streets of Ikebukuro together, hand in hand. Although it was somewhat unwillingly that Shizuo allowed Yomi to hold onto his hand. He made no attempts to return the gesture, his fingers lax while hers were cupped tightly.

Shizuo tucked his freehand beneath his black vest into the pocket on his undershirt and managed to pry one cigarette from the carton. With the butt placed between his lips, he started feeling around in his pant pockets. Somewhere, he was certain, he had placed that lighter. Where was it...

"Here," Yomi offered. Apparently she had her own lighter, which she used to light the end of the cigarette for him.

The rush of nicotine numbed his nerves. After tolerating Yomi's harsh comments and odd antics, then chugging warm milk, and afterward blowing up and nearly maiming his own friend with a traffic sign, Shizuo needed a smoke. It was calm, refreshing. He closed his eyes for a moment and allowed the feeling to overwhelm all of his other senses.

While he couldn't see, Yomi guided him along while clinging to his right arm. The thought that he had to rely on her while his eyes were closed wasn't comforting, however. So he quickly opened them again. At that moment a curious thought crossed his mind. Yomi didn't like smoking and yet she was carrying a lighter. "Why do you have that thing?" he asked suddenly, breathing out a mouthful of smoke.

"Just in case I need to _burn_ someone." The way she almost seemed to giggle as she said it made Shizuo believe she was just playing with him.

Shinra and Celty on the other hand, who had returned to Celty's motorcycle and were following the two closely, suspected otherwise. Horror-struck, Celty turned to Shinra and whipped out her PDA in the blink of an eye. _"Where did you say he met her?"_

Looking just as flabbergasted, Shinra shook his head in disbelief. "I thought he said... He met her while working..."

That was enough to spell trouble. As the bodyguard of a debt collector, he probably met quite a few people who had a few screws loose. Obviously Yomi was one of them. One of the worst ones, apparently.

"He has found someone scarier than he is." There was a forced look of approval on Shinra's face, mixed with one of horror. He couldn't quite decide between whether this was a good or bad thing. Nonetheless, something had always been quite clear to him and Celty: Shizuo wasn't exactly normal himself, so it kind of defied logic for him to be able to find someone that _was_ normal. With that in mind, everything became a little easier to accept. Except the pink paper crown still precariously placed, and slightly tilting now, on the top of Shizuo's head. That part was a little difficult to accept.

Meanwhile the two walking hand in hand, oblivious to thoughts of the couple that were shadowing them, came to a sudden stop at the crosswalk of a busy intersection. It was at that point that Yomi became aware of that fact that Shizuo seemed to have gone rigid. When she peered up at him she noticed his eyes set into a menacing glare as he stared over at something on the other side of the crosswalk.

"What is it? What is it, Shi-chan?" she asked with great curiosity, leaning forward on her tiptoes as she tried to see. Using her freehand to block the glaring rays of the sun, Yomi peered across the street to try and spot whatever it was that had caught his attention. "I can't see anything..." It was impossible. The cars were passing by in such a quick blur and in the cluster of people adjacent to them, also waiting for the light to change, she couldn't spot anyone peculiar among the crowd.

Shizuo, on the other hand, could sense with every fiber of his being just who it was that was on the other side of that crosswalk. And it pissed him off. "Izaaaayaaa," he hissed out in a dangerously low growl as he reached up and ripped the cigarette from his mouth with his freehand. Suddenly he had released Yomi's hand, snapped the remaining butt, threw to the ground, and stomped on it. Then, in the same instance Shizuo flew to the vending machine just few feet away. The blonde-haired man easily ripped the large oblong object from its spot on the wall and chucked it across the street.

Blue eyes set wide, Yomi watched with a look of amazement on her face. Her lips were slightly open as she gasped out, "Wow..."

The poor citizen that had nearly been smashed by the flying vending machine when its original target had narrowly dodged it, was not impressed. In fact they were running and screaming for their life while yelling obscenities.

The man who had some difficulties in avoiding the object which Shizuo had thrown across traffic (which had sense screeched to a halt) was familiar to Yomi. It was the black-haired man with a mocking smirk and those mischievous gleaming eyes.

From out of nowhere Shizuo appeared again, dashing past Yomi and out into the stopped traffic. It seemed he didn't care that the light was still quite obviously red. He was brandishing a red sign over his head, waving it dangerously as he charged the opponent, who seemed relatively unaffected. The blonde-haired man deftly swung the metal sign after all the people around Izaya had scattered.

Of course the informant managed to leap over the sign just in time, and skipped across the crosswalk while chortling, leaving a disoriented Shizuo behind. "So dangerous," he called back in a loud, mocking tone. Izaya stopped just beside Yomi who was still awestruck by the display. "We'd better run away, Yomi-chan." Before Shizuo could twist around and charge at him, he unsheathed one of his hands from his pocket and reached for Yomi's wrist.

Though not entirely willing, Yomi allowed herself to be dragged along. Both she and Izaya found themselves making a mad dash down the sidewalk with a raging Shizuo hot on their heels. It was only fortunate that the lofty sign he was carrying managed to slow him. Except there was some other problem just ahead of them, as Yomi noticed when she looked up ahead.

"Oh, Uzaya-chan," she sang out jubilantly. "The light is turning red. This might be a little dangerous."

It was true; people were crowding around the crosswalk up ahead where the light had just turned red moments ago. Even by the time they managed to reach it, it would still be red. They didn't have enough distance on Shizuo to keep him from catching up if that happened. Their only other choice was to dart through the traffic and hope they made it.

"How observant! You wanted some information, didn't you, Yomi-chan? I hope you can keep up." His sing-song voice mirrored hers as he spoke. Not that she had much time to notice as they pushed through the crowd of people, flinging some of them onto the ground in their rush. The two managed to emerge on the other side in a matter of seconds. But rather than waiting, Izaya yanked Yomi out into the traffic. The two of them were forced to leap in between cars, and on top of the hoods of some.

The honking horns that filled the air became their accompaniment as the two scrambled to the other side, unscathed. Yomi cast a quick glance back to see that the crowd had completely scattered as Shizuo approached with his sign. Unfortunately since he was a less agile than both she and Izaya, he struggled to make it through the cars, many of which had crashed since the stunt said informant had pulled.

Izaya seemed carefree as he skipped along with Yomi's wrist still firmly held in his grasp. It didn't even seem to bother him that the strongest man in Ikebukuro was hot on his trail, gleaming with killing intent. In fact he seemed almost blissfully unaware.

"Oh! Shi-chan is getting on a motorcycle with that female black rider."

That news, she thought, would bring him crashing back to reality. Though the man only flashed a catlike grin at her as they rounded a corner. In that split second she found herself whisked into a dark alleyway, hidden amongst the shadows where Izaya apparently hoped they would go unnoticed by the eyes of Shizuo.

Unfortunately said alleyway was also narrow and cramped. Yomi found herself uncomfortably pressed against the man she still knew so little about. At least he wasn't fat, she assured herself. Because then she would've been sandwiched against the wall like a pancake. As it stood, the two were just leaning against each other with only a marginal space between them.

As she breathed in, Yomi inhaled a waft of cologne. Curious about the scent, she sniffed at Izaya's coat, earning her a curious glance from the man to whom it belong. "You don't smell like cigarettes," she expressed delightedly. "You actually smell really nice, Uzaya-chan." Through the darkness, where he surely couldn't make out her face, she smiled up at him. To Yomi, being so close wasn't a bad thing since at least he didn't smell of smoke.

"Thinking about perverted things?" he asked smugly.

Yomi blinked at him. "That's not possible, Uzaya-chan. You're too annoying."

The man feigned a look of hurt she could barely discern. "How mean!" When she opened her mouth to speak again, he somehow seemed to notice - or sense it - and pressed his finger to her lips to silence her. "Shh, Shizu-chan is coming."

Just as he'd warned, she could faintly hear the roar of an approaching motorcycle. It grew louder and louder. Yomi peered down the alleyway from where they had come from to see the small amount of light there disrupted by what she could only narrowly distinguish as Shizuo's silhouette. He was mumbling something almost inaudible... "Kill, kill, kill, kill..." Fortunately both he and the bike he was riding on the back of lingered there for only a moment before they were off.

Yomi tried to wriggle away from Izaya, assuming it safe to leave now that the coast was clear. He immediately grabbed her arm and pulled her back, however. "Patience, patience," he told her. "They'll be scouring the area for the next few minutes."

Disgruntled, she slumped against the rough siding of the building. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark. All around them she could hear the sound of traffic accompanied by the bustling crowd of people on the streets. Their voices seemed so distant from where she was standing. Yomi breathed a sigh as she glanced up at the man she stood shoulder to shoulder with.

"Staring at me, Yomi-chan?"

He seemed to like taunting people. "I'm waiting for you to pay up, Uzaya-chan. You ruined a really good opportunity for me." Yomi huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Since night was rapidly approaching, it was already starting to get cold on the streets. Worse yet in a cold, dank alleyway.

The sound of a soft chuckle drifted through the darkness. "You have weird tastes to be dating Shizu-chan."

Her blue eyes narrowed. "Shi-chan is really cute."

At that, he laughed again. "Yes," he agreed, much to her surprise, "Especially with that pink crown on his head." There was a look of utter amusement on his face, though she could barely distinguish it. He was grinning.

"Ah!" she gasped in realization. "Then you were entertained. That's what you wanted last time, right, Uzaya-chan? So then you really are going to give me the information I was looking for." Without answering he pushed past her and started down the alley back the way they came. Yomi hurried after him.

When they emerged from the alleyway, the streets of Ikebukuro were beginning to darken. The lights of the city were already shining down upon them, brilliant colors that illuminated the people who occupied it. Once they were out amidst the busy horde, Izaya suddenly twisted around on the heel of his shoe. It was so sudden that Yomi literally slammed right into his chest. (And bounced off.) She stumbled back after the impact, and after steadying herself, glanced up into his face.

His scrutinizing reddish brown eyes stared back at her. "This," he said as he passed her a folded, square-shaped note.

Hastily, she unfolded it and smoothed it out across her stomach before lifting up to her eyes. It was still light enough out that she could discern the large picture of sushi on the front of the paper. "A sushi restaurant flyer?" Yomi quirked a brow questioningly as she looked up at Izaya. "Is this your way of asking me out on a date, Uzaya-chan?" She beamed at him.

He smiled mischievously back at her. "You provided the entertainment I asked for, like you said. I'll pay you back." It seemed entirely innocent but there was nothing even remotely innocent about the tone of his voice. Izaya was definitely up to something.

Sushi and information? She wasn't sure how the two correlated, but Yomi happily obliged with a smile. There was just one thing to clarify. "You'll be paying, right?" Her eyes slanted suspiciously at him.

"Worried about money after you robbed someone?" he countered. "How greedy."

"You interrupted my date," she quipped.

They both had a point. Izaya just wasn't pleased about the one she made. "A date with Shizu-chan isn't much of a date." He took every opportunity to jab his rival that he possibly could. Even though Shizuo couldn't hear him. (Though he was probably sneezing elsewhere while listening to Shinra tease him about someone talking about him behind his back.) Yomi didn't contest that point, and satisfied, Izaya started down the street again. She skipped up beside him and the two went side-by-side until they arrived at the sushi restaurant that displayed on the flyer.

Izaya led her to a booth near the back, practically secluded from the rest of the restaurant. On their way, they passed a man with dark skin who was chatting with a customer. Yomi immediately noticed his heavy accent and was nonetheless impressed to hear how fluent he was at Japanese. There was something about him that caught her eye, but she tore her gaze away to follow Izaya.

She plopped herself down across from him. Almost the moment the two sat down, the tall, dark-skinned man came to their table. He smiled blithely at them, with his eyes crinkled shut. "Izaya," he greeted with something strange in the tone of his voice that Yomi simply couldn't recognize. It seemed like the two were longtime friends that hadn't seen each other in a while, but even Yomi knew appearances could be deceiving.

"Shizu-chan's been around here lately so I've been avoiding this place," Izaya responded, mirroring the blithe expression that the other man seemed to have on his face. "Coincidentally, this was his date today, Simon." He motioned over at Yomi.

His beady gray eyes, which seemed to be darkly outlined, turned toward her. His plump lips seemed to an even wider smile. Despite the friendly gesture, there was an intimidating air about this man. Yet he simultaneously gave a sense of gentleness that Yomi was unfamiliar with.

"Hello, Simon-san," she greeted politely. Even Yomi had to have respect for someone as imposing at the figure towering in front of her. "My name is Yomi."

"The sushi here is good." It seemed a strange statement for someone to randomly make, but she supposed it was logical given that selling sushi was the purpose of the restaurant. Though she was surprised he didn't question or comment in reference to Izaya's mention about her being Shizuo's date.

Yomi gave him a prompt nod. "That's why I came! Uzaya-chan said he would buy me a lot of sushi."

Simon turned his glaring eyes back toward Izaya. There was something in the way they stared at each other that seemed to convey some secret message that Yomi didn't pick up on. "Very good, I will get sushi." The words rolled off his tongue as he turned away and briefly departed.

In the few moments he left to retrieve a platter of sushi, Yomi turned to Izaya. "Simon-san is from Europe?"

"Russia," Izaya clarified, tracing circles on the surface of the table with his index finger. It was at that time she noticed he wore a silver ring, and couldn't help but wonder the purpose for it. Yomi hadn't pegged the peculiar man before her as one with a penchant for jewelry. Then again, he was almost more eccentric than she was.

There was something more to it than Simon being a foreigner, though, and she was sure of it. It was something about the way he came across that gave her the impression that there was more than what she saw on the surface. Simon was particularly muscular with the body of a fighter. "Was he in the army? He sure seems strong."

"Wrong on the first one!" Izaya's voice chimed back. "But you have good eyes, Yomi-chan. Probably not as strong as Shizu-chan but much smarter." It almost sounded like a compliment, although Yomi imagined that Izaya hadn't intended it that way.

Slowly she was starting to realize why it was that Izaya had brought her all the way to a sushi restaurant. What he'd said about Simon piqued her interest. So when Simon returned, she indiscriminately spoke up with the question weighing on her mind. "Simon-san, did you know someone named Hiro Inoue?"

The question seemed to evoke a pleasant memory that left a fond smile on Simon's face. "Hiro came a lot for sushi. He was a good customer. Haven't seen him in a while." His sentences were a bit choppy, but the information he presented proved to be of some value. Unfortunately, much to Yomi's disappointment, he excused himself after placing the sushi platter down between her and Izaya.

How was she supposed to get the information she sought if he sped off so quickly? But there was a way. The idea popped into her head as she stared down at the untouched sushi. Eyes gleaming, she glanced up at the man across from her. "How much do you like sushi, Uzaya-chan?"

"You think by ordering more he'll answer your questions. Interesting thought process. But sorry, Yomi-chan, I don't want to any. Good luck." It seemed like he was challenging her by the smirk on his face. Izaya leaned back in his seat, draping his arms over the either edge of the booth.

"As long as you're paying, my appetite has no end."

He chuckled at her childish attempt to be triumphant. "All the more entertaining for me."

A little disappointed that she hadn't managed to stir him enough to elicit some kind of reaction, Yomi started stuffing her face with the sushi. She filled her mouth until both cheeks were swollen and she barely had enough room to chew. The hilarity of it kept an amused grin on Izaya's face as he watched her. Yomi choked as she struggled to swallow, her eyes watering.

"So unrefined, Yomi-chan," he admonished. "I think your lack of manners reflects your choice in dates."

Curious, but unable to speak with her mouth full, Yomi stopped stuffing herself long enough to finish off what she was still chewing on before speaking. "Huh? What do you mean by that?"

He suddenly leaned forward and reached across the table. His thin fingers plucked up one of the round pieces of sushi from the tray. Izaya brought it up to his face, as though examining it. "Shizu-chan is useless when it comes to information. All he is good for is brute strength." He smiled menacingly as he lowered his hand slightly, away from his face. "That's what you're using him for, aren't you?"

Without responding to the question, Yomi swiped up the remainder of the sushi left on the platter. It took her only a moment to inhale it. Afterward she was left eyeing the roll held between his fingers with a questioning gaze. As she was still chewing the last of it in her mouth, she rudely spoke with no regard for table etiquette, "You're pretty perceptive, Uzaya-chan. But Shi-chan's strength will come in really handy. Mostly, I just like his reactions when I tell him things."

That catlike grin on his face widened. "Reactions?" he prompted.

Nodding, she swallowed. "Haven't you seen any?"

His gaze fell to the sushi in his hand as he chuckled. "I've seen vending machines flying at me from out of nowhere." And traffic signs, parking meters, as well as various other miscellaneous appliances that he didn't see fit to mention. He couldn't even say that Shizuo had thrown everything at him except "the kitchen sink." (Because, honestly, Izaya was pretty sure Shizuo had thrown that at him, too.)

A look of realization came across Yomi's face as she gave a thoughtful nod. "Ah! Shi-chan must hate you." How she hadn't noticed earlier was a mystery to Izaya. Perhaps she didn't notice the obviousness of Shizuo blindly charging at him through traffic. Though it was a bit difficult to miss...

"The feeling is mutual," he assured her while lightly squeezing the sushi between his fingers.

The conversation stopped momentarily as Yomi flagged Simon down for another platter of sushi. Her threat about having an endless appetite had proven true so far. She didn't seem at all subdued by the whole platter she'd already inhaled in a matter of minutes.

"We need some more," she told Simon with a lofty grin.

He seemed pleased to hear this. "Of course, more sushi!" And took off before she even had the opportunity to squeeze in one of the questions she'd wanted to ask him.

Izaya seemed happy to mock her and take pleasure from the defeated look on her face. "Too bad, Yomi-chan," he told her with a fake tone of sympathy. "You might want to ask your questions a little faster next time."

The black-haired girl turned her icy gaze toward him and suddenly pointed a finger in Izaya's direction. "You're useless. You should help me." Ever the tactless one.

Suddenly he squeezed the sushi between his fingers so tightly that the filling was forced out the side. It dribbled down his fingers before landing onto the table. Izaya didn't seem concerned about it, though. He swiped up a napkin and quickly wiped his fingers off.

Yomi frowned at him. "You wasted food, Uzaya-chan."

"You're welcome to eat it," he shot back.

She eyed it apprehensively. Even though Yomi hated wasting food (and was probably one of the most, if not the most, eccentric in Ikebukuro) she wasn't about to scoop the ruined sushi off the table and dump it into her mouth. Even if she had no common sense, she had enough to think it for the best to let Izaya get away with this one.

The sound of Simon's shoes clomping against the floor in his approach turned Yomi's attention away from the unlikable character sitting across from her. She smiled promptly at the dark-skinned man as he set the platter of freshly-made sushi down in front of her. "Very good sushi," he told her. His lips were subtly upturned into a gentle smile.

Just as she was about to spout out her question before he turned to leave, Izaya suddenly intervened. "Some sake, Simon." He glanced at Yomi sidelong and flashed her a playful smirk. It was obvious sabotage. (At least, she thought so.)

Yomi watched Simon's retreating figure wistfully, the question still hot on her tongue. Disgruntled by Izaya's interference, she glared over at him. "Uzaya-chan," she spoke frankly, "You're a drunk, aren't you?"

That smirk of his widened as his eyes crinkled shut. It seemed to be innocent, but to Yomi it was altogether unpleasant. "It will help you wash down all of that sushi." A likely story. She didn't believe it for a moment.

"You're interfering," she whined, slumping against the table. Yomi plucked one of the sushi off the platter and chewed it slowly while pouting up at Izaya. He just tilted his head in response with a mischievous gleam in his eyes that only spelled out trouble.

Fortunately the giant man - Simon - had returned to their table with the bottle and shot glasses that Izaya had requested. "Sake is very good to wash down good sushi with." He chuckled heartily at the statement.

Taking the moment afterward as an opportunity, Yomi suddenly shot upright in her seat. "Simon-san," she spoke somberly, "About Hiro Inoue-"

"Hiro always came with two other men for sushi." It seemed like he was trying to subtly offer the information she wanted. Perhaps he'd guessed from the moment she'd first mentioned him that she wanted any information surrounding him. "Friends of Hiro still come for good sushi on Tuesdays."

_Ding, ding..._

Some people had just entered the shop - regulars, perhaps, that Simon seemed to be familiar with. He offered Yomi another smile, bidding her to enjoy the "good sushi" before turning to greet the visitors. It left her little opportunity to impose on him and press for further information. Not that Yomi showed any signs of being disheartened by that. On the contrary, she cheerfully turned toward the sushi and began to dig into it as she had before. (As though she hadn't already inhaled a platter...)

Izaya took the chance to open the sake bottle. He immediately poured one of the small, clear glasses full and nudged it over toward Yomi. "You can't enjoy good sushi without good sake, after all." He seemed to be mocking what Simon had said previously.

"I'm no drunk, Uzaya-chan." Those blue eyes of hers glanced briefly down at the shot glass, which she regarded with a look of disgust. Her nose wrinkled.

He poured himself a shot and held it up toward his mouth. "It seems like Yomi-chan can't hold her liquor very well." That insidious remark was an obvious challenge to her pride, though he offered an innocent smile to try and mask it.

Hastily, Yomi snatched up the small glass. She tossed her head back and downed it all in one gulp. Obviously she hadn't caught the ulterior motive lurking behind Izaya's prompting for her to drink the alcohol. Slamming the shot glass back against the table, Yomi let out a satisfied gasp of breath. "Ah! See, Uzaya-chan? I can hold my liquor just fine." Though that remained to be seen.

The black-haired informant looked completely unimpressed. Yet he was nevertheless satisfied that he'd managed to goad her into it so easily. "Drinking is the perfect technique to use when you want to pry information out of someone, Yomi-chan." Although it was juvenile and predictable. It seemed to him that something so simplistic was about the extent of her abilities to deceive or trick a person. "This is the extent of my help this time." With that he had paid her back well for the amusement of the pink paper crown on Shizuo's head. The very thought of it made Izaya snicker to himself as he slid out of the booth. He had every intention of leaving.

But Yomi didn't approve. "Ah, I see," she exclaimed loudly, hoping that Simon and the other customers might overhear what she was saying. "So Izaya Orihara is the type to bring a girl to a restaurant, trick her into drinking, and then leave her behind once she's too drunk to do anything." As she finished speaking she grinned at him mischievously, popping another piece of sushi into her mouth.

Perhaps she was a bit more sly than he had given her credit for. Simon was stomping over toward their table with a sullen look that had Izaya sighing to himself as he took a seat in the booth again. It wasn't worth incurring the Russian man's wrath. He'd already incited enough rage in Shizuo to last him the next couple of months. Appearing in Ikebukuro was going to be harder, because Shizuo would surely make hunting Izaya down an even higher priority after tonight.

Triumphant, Yomi grinned over at him. "You tricked me into drinking. Let me pour you a glass this time, Uzaya-chan!" She quickly filled up the other shot glass that had been left untouched, and pushed it over toward him with an inciting look.

He eyed it apprehensively. There was something about drinking excessively with someone as eccentric as Yomi that had "BAD IDEA" written all over it. (Blinking at him in bright, pink neon letters, in fact.) But even someone as capricious and cunning as Izaya knew Japanese manners well enough to know how impolite it would be to reject a drink. It was bad for business, even in the trade of information bartering. Though he was probably most influenced by Simon, who still loomed over their table with a dangerous look on his face. Reluctantly, Izaya took the shot and downed it slowly. The liquid burned as it ran down his throat, leaving behind a tingling trail in its wake. In moments his entire body felt consumed by a warm flame, not entirely unwelcome considering how cold the streets of Ikebukuro had been. Satisfied that they seemed to have sorted out their troubles, Simon stalked off once more. There seemed to be the sound a faint ringing in the background - probably the phone.

"Not bad, not bad, Uzaya-chan!" Yomi chirped cheerfully with a short round of applause that the nearby customers in another booth most likely did _not_ appreciate.

He ignored her praise and poured her own shot glass full of sake and pushed it toward her again. While she busied herself downing the one he'd just passed her, Izaya sneakily filled up his own and slid it across the table. Since she was distracted by what she was drinking, Yomi didn't seem to think of anything of it when she placed down her glass and found another full one sitting there to take its place. In fact, she didn't even question it. She downed that one too. When she set that one down, Yomi let out an appreciative burp that left Izaya cringing and reeling from the smell as the sudden gust of warm air hit his face.

"Such a lack of manners, Yomi-chan," he chided, holding the sleeve of his jacket over his face.

Her blue eyes gazed back at him, unfocused as her head lulled from left to right. Yomi's entire body seemed to be swaying in her seat, precariously hanging over the edge before slumping back into the booth. "Hey," she called out in a loud voice, an apparent slur evident in the way she spoke the word. "You cheated again. That's not very nice, Uzaya-chan."

Izaya smiled back at her innocently. "Still not drunk enough? Want another?" He offered her another freshly filled glass.

Though she was buzzed enough that she wasn't acting entirely normal, even Yomi caught on to what he was trying to do. He was displaying his ulterior motives obviously. Just as he had suggested earlier, he was trying to get her completely smashed. For information? Is that what he wanted? She wasn't sure. "What do you want?" The question seemed to roll off her tongue the moment it popped into her mind.

"Information," he drawled without any sign of reservation.

"About what?"

With a brief gesture, he motioned to her. "About you," he said as he took a piece of sushi and popped it into his mouth. There was a curious look on his face as he chewed for a moment before swallowing, as though he found the taste questionable. But he didn't comment on it.

Yomi watched him intently, and snatched the edge of the platter, pulling it across the table and over toward herself like a greedy child. "Mine," she hissed haughtily at him, not wanting to share. After all, he'd already wasted one piece. Plucking up one of the pieces from the tray, she pushed it between her lips while keeping her gaze focused on the untrustworthy man. She looked at him thoughtfully while she chewed. After swallowing, she finally asked, "What about me?"

"Everything!" he exclaimed with an exaggerated wave of his hand. "Yomi-chan's last name, where she came from..."

"Why would you want to know that?" Immediately after asking, she waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Never mind, you're just a really weird person, Uzaya-chan."

Last Izaya had looked, Simon had wandered to the back to answer the phone. That meant that, for the moment, he wouldn't be able to impede Izaya's escape. Smirking, Izaya excused himself from the table. "I'll be back in a moment. Wait here for me, Yomi-chan." The girl was too inebriated to offer much of a protest. She just smiled back at him while swaying from side to side in her seat.

The sound of his footsteps tapping lightly against the floor seemed to be drowned out by the chattering of the few other customers in the half-empty restaurant. It was a relief that, at least he hoped, Simon's perceptive ears wouldn't catch him escaping. Izaya slunk over toward the entrance, peering around to make sure that Simon was nowhere in sight.

Satisfied that his escape would go smoothly as he planned, Izaya slipped out into the night. The cold hit his face hard, but it was a refreshing feeling as he inhaled the crisp air. He didn't even have a guilty conscience as he turned to walk down the street... At least until something grabbed his collar and lifted him into the air.

"Going somewhere, Izaya?" Simon's harsh, accented voice broke through the sound of the bustling people and the noise of traffic in the background. The dark-skinned man easily hoisted Izaya through the air and held him, by the scruff of the neck - much like a cat.

Izaya could feel his feet dangling just about a foot above the ground. It was a frustrating feeling but one that was familiar. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten into trouble with Simon. Though the last time had been a particularly painful punch to the face that had left him with a black eye. There was no hope of tricking Simon, but Izaya nevertheless offered the most innocent smile he could muster. "I have business to attend to," he explained.

Those beady eyes regarded him as nothing more than weasel, which is probably what Simon likened Izaya to. "You are not planning to leave Yomi behind?" His brows lifted questioningly. That hard gaze of Simon's left Izaya no room to drown him in useless excuses.

But, as Izaya reasoned inwardly, it was worth a shot. "Ah! Yomi-chan said she would be fine taking herself home."

Simon frowned. "You take her home." For a moment his gaze left Izaya's eyes as he looked around the busy streets of Ikebukuro. "Shizuo will be coming here soon." Though there was no sense of urgency in Simon's voice, Izaya could sense that Simon was trying to usher him out as quickly as possible.

"All the more reason for me to leave," the informant assured with an uneasy smile.

Unconvinced, Simon turned back toward the restaurant and dragged Izaya back inside. He tromped all the way back toward the booth that Izaya had been so eager to flee from. There Izaya spotted Yomi. She had slumped forward, her chin pressed against her chest. Apparently she had fallen asleep. There was a thin line of drool running down the length of her chin, her lips slightly parted as she let loose a small squeaking sound as she snoozed. It would've been comical if Izaya hadn't been disgusted.

Simon jabbed his finger in her direction. "Take Yomi and go. We will keep Shizuo for good sushi." Apparently he was insinuating that, by giving Shizuo sushi, he would act as a distraction and give Izaya plenty of time to escape with Yomi.

There was no helping it; Simon left Izaya with little other choice. So he silently acquiesced. A moment later he felt himself being lowered back to the floor. It was something of a relief to feel solid ground again. Izaya craned his neck to glance up at Simon momentarily before extending his leg to nudge at Yomi's calf with his foot.

But he was stopped as a heavy hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder. "Yomi ate good sushi and drank good sake. Do not wake her." The black-haired informant glanced at the Russian man questioningly, but Simon already knew what question it was that Izaya wanted to ask him. "Put her on your back."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Again thanks for the reviews. Posting early because I'm trying to motivate myself to write more, plus I want to get these out a little faster because the writing is old. (Wrote this all for NaNoWriMo.) So it has been months since... Anyways hope you enjoyed, let me know what you think! :)


	6. Unmovable King

**Chapter 06 - Unmovable King**

Girls were supposed to be light. They were supposed to be cute. And although they could be annoying, they were never supposed to be drooling all over your jacket as you walked them the rest of the way to your office because you didn't know where they lived. (That was, after taking a taxi to get all the way back to Shinjuku in the first place, and having her drool all over his shoulder on the way.) But then again, maybe Yomi didn't quite qualify as a girl.

Izaya couldn't even force a smile, trudging through a dark, deserted alleyway. As he passed by a loaded trash bin, he inwardly debated whether or not it would be a good idea to dump Yomi in it. She was awfully heavy, and he was definitely going to have to wash his coat after this. All that drool... How could one person drool so much?

But Simon would probably punch his lights out if he left her sitting in a trash can all night. Shizuo would probably hunt him down and maim him with a traffic meter... Behead him with a stop sign... Chuck a vending machine at him... Something creative and horrifyingly painful like that.

While he paused there, in the wide open space between two large buildings, pondering the idea to himself, Izaya didn't notice that Yomi had begun to stir. At least not until he heard her say, "Ah... Uzaya-chan, you're such a bumpy ride."

Disregarding her grogginess, he knelt down slightly and dumped her off his back. "Off you go," his voice chimed gleefully. He was so happy to have lifted all that weight from his back... Even though he'd only been trudging, with her body draped over him, for little more than three minutes.

The only problem was that, while he had intended for her to land on her feet, she landed with a noisy thud on the ground. Yomi's body was sprawled across the concrete, her head lulling about as her half-lidded eyes gazed languidly up at Izaya. She seemed to still be in a drunken haze.

Not that he really cared. In fact, Izaya was too busy dusting himself off and examining the large pool of drool that had accumulated on his jacket. "Drool," he muttered, absolutely chagrined at the sight of it. On his _favorite_ fur-lined jacket, no less. "You really aren't cute, Yomi-chan."

Her dark hair was splayed out across the ground beneath her as she rocked from side to side, groaning in agony. "My stomach..." Yomi managed to lift her head a little as she pressed her trembling hand against her abdomen. When she lifted it, her fingers were coated in a thin layer of warm liquid. "Blood," she gasped out in what sounded more like a giggle.

Izaya had already turned his gaze toward her, eyeing her hand curiously. The blood immediately caught his attention. He knelt down beside her, his eyes briefly flitting to her hand before glancing down at her stomach. It was hard to discern the red of her shirt from the blood that had soaked through it. So he start to roll up her shirt to get a better look.

"Pervert," she fussed, despite her cheerful tone.

Unabashed by her rude remark, Izaya fully rolled up her shirt until he came across the sight of the wound. It was bleeding profusely, slightly to the side beneath her right breast. Though he couldn't be positive, but it looked like a gunshot wound. "Very sneaky, Yomi-chan. You were wounded this whole time and never even showed it. Too bad, though, looks like it's infected. This is a bullet wound, right?" There was no concern evident on his face as he examined it with great curiosity.

"It doesn't matter if it heals," she dismissed in a strained voice. Her face – pale and barely distinguishable through the thick blanket of darkness – was contorted in anguish. "It's from Hiro-chan."

"You're saying he shot you?" Izaya prompted, his curiosity piqued by this new tidbit of information.

But Yomi didn't answer him. She just stared up at him absentmindedly as though she'd never even heard his question. Perhaps it was because of the pain that her thoughts were elsewhere.

"You could really die from that, you know," he observed. Her shirt was still rolled up into his fist. The fabric was wet from her blood and still warm, though it didn't seem to bother Izaya that his fingers were becoming covered in the thick crimson liquid. In fact, he seemed too engrossed with her wound to care about anything else.

The two of them were an odd sight that could easily be misinterpreted by any passerby, with one exception: no one had, nor was anyone going to pass by. It was a back alley that was littered with empty soda cans, supermarket sacks, and cigarette butts. And there in the midst of it was Yomi, sprawled out upon the concrete, a small puddle of blood forming beneath her limp body. Then there was Izaya, still kneeling beside her, hovering over her with the eyes of a predator.

But Yomi was too drunk to think much of their situation. In fact, she seemed to smile at the thought that she could die from her infected wound. "Doesn't matter," she told him carelessly, "As long as I kill the people who took Hiro-chan from me first."

Even though he was a good distance from her face, he could still smell the liquor on her breath. It was a strangely sweet smell that nevertheless prompted Izaya to turn his face away. She was definitely still drunk, but he also knew she meant what she was saying. "Unfortunately, Yomi-chan, I really can't have you die so soon." His lips twitched as he unfurled her shirt and smoothed it back out over her abdomen. The paleness of his knuckles contrasted with his fingers which seemed to almost blend into the night. Izaya's eyes didn't linger on such insignificant details for long. He stood up and nudged Yomi with his foot. "If you lay there all night, people might really think you're dead," he told her in a sing-song voice. (As though the very thought was amusing to him.)

As she stared up at him Yomi noticed that Izaya was smiling at her. "I hate that creepy smile."

Izaya chuckled. "Can't stand up?" He was taunting her again.

"No," she confirmed honestly. "Want to give me a piggyback ride?"

"If you have the energy to ask petulant questions then there's no need." He turned on his heel and started back down across the concrete with his hands shoved into the depths of his pockets.

Yomi watched his back silently as he left. It was surprisingly broad, which she hadn't noticed even as she'd been draped over it. He didn't seem like he was very strong. Actually, he seemed to be swaying back and forth while he was walking. She smiled to herself as she closed her eyes. Izaya was probably a little drunk too.

It wasn't bleeding that badly. At least, he was pretty sure it wasn't... She wouldn't die laying there in the middle of that alleyway, would she? Simon would probably join Shizuo in hunting him down if that happened... Trouble like that wasn't really anything new for him. He was convinced it didn't matter. Except there was one thing on his mind. Yomi fit perfectly into a particular large scheme plan he'd been toiling with for over six months. She couldn't very well play the imperative part he was hoping if she went and died on him. What was one piggyback ride? (Aside from an utter loss of dignity, but then again, he didn't have much of that after being drooled all over.)

The tall, lanky man casually turned around and trudged back to the apparently unconscious girl. "Have you died yet, Yomi-chan?" He nudged her with his foot as he asked the question, peering down at her motionless face. Izaya could still visibly see the rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled and exhaled, but her breathing had grown shallow.

Her eyes fluttered open and she tiredly forced a smile up at him. "I'm not dead yet."

The expression on his face displayed no relief at her statement. Izaya knelt down beside her with his back turned toward her. "You better hurry and get on, or I really will have to leave you behind to die this time~" It seemed by the tone of his voice as though he was just joking around but Yomi knew better.

Even though she was groggy, tired, and every part of her body seemed uncooperative with the commands she gave them, she managed to crawl up onto his back. She lazily draped her arms over his shoulder and slumped forward as he lifted her up. Through the thin fabric covering her legs she could feel how warm his hands were as they grasped her thighs.

It was painfully obvious how much Izaya struggled as he tried to stand up and move forward. He stumbled from side to side, swaying so dangerously that it felt almost like an amusement park ride to Yomi. "Whee!" she exclaimed delightedly, much to his chagrin, which elicited a jab from him about her weight.

"You really should be careful about your weight, Yomi-chan. I hope you don't eat sushi like that all the time. You'll really pack on the pounds. Even Shi-chan who has weird tastes wouldn't be interested in a cow." He strained to smile despite how much he struggled just to try to walk straight. Good God, why was she so **heavy**?

"You're terrible at piggyback rides," she whispered back to him, "Hiro-chan was better."

"Too bad he's dead," Izaya responded sardonically with a lopsided smirk. It was a tactless thing to say, though he didn't really care. He also wasn't particularly concerned about being talented at piggyback rides. In fact, he was perfectly content to be considered inferior at them. That meant he wouldn't have to give them often. (Which, considering he'd never given piggyback rides before to begin with, not even with his sisters, would probably explain his lack of ability to do them in the first place.)

Her hands balled up into fists as they clutched at the material of his jacket. "It really is too bad," she agreed through gritted teeth. For once Yomi's voice lacked its usual cheerfulness, though that didn't last long. "By the way, Uzaya-chan... Do I need to pay a fee?" Suddenly she started rocking back and forth on his back, causing him to only further lose control of his balance.

While he struggled to maintain control, he replied, "A fee? Am I taxi?"

"Mmhmm! You're a really crappy taxi."

He scoffed. A taxi? That was one of the last things he wanted to be compared to. So much for his reputation in information bartering. Now he was a regular transportation service for others to utilize. (And according to Yomi, an incompetent one at that.) "If you want to pay me back, then don't die until I tell you. Then when I tell you to die, don't hesitate." His own sly response left him smirking triumphantly.

"Okay," she agreed, much to his astonishment. "I won't die until Uzaya-chan tells me to. As long as it's after I kill the people who took Hiro-chan away from me. Then I don't mind, whenever Uzaya-chan says. Okay?" Her arms squeezed around his neck, almost dangerously so.

Though he was pleased about how accepting she was over what he'd most likely intended to be a joke, Izaya was beginning to rethink his idea to piggyback her the rest of the way to his office. In fact that seemed like a bad idea now. A really bad idea. But there was one positive... Despite her unpredictable nature, he was starting to understand Yomi. He was starting to see the truth beneath the layer of lies she'd masked herself with. That part itself was exciting.

"It really hurts..." It was evident by the way her voice strained as she spoke. Yomi shifted uncomfortably on his back, which nearly wrested his grip away from her thigh, though Izaya narrowly managed to hold on until she settled down again. Her chin came to a rest on his shoulder as she asked, "Are you taking me to a hospital?"

"Nope! There's a lady at my office that can fix you up for free."

His office? That didn't even some remotely appealing. There was something about Izaya that was altogether suspicious. Yomi didn't trust, even for a moment, that he didn't have some ulterior motive. It did seem odd that he'd come back to carry her after dumping her at the first sign that she was conscious. "You're planning to sell my kidneys," she deduced.

A smirk crawled up onto his lips, although Yomi couldn't see it.

She could, however, interpret his silence on the matter. "Well, as long as you leave me one, I don't mind!" Though her voice still sounded a bit pained, she managed to retain her cheerful demeanor.

This, to Izaya, seemed like a good trade. He'd sacrificed his much beloved coat and selling her kidney might actually be proper compensation for all the trouble he'd gone through to save her. (That is, neglecting all the plans he had to use her to further his own agenda, which was the actual reason he'd gone out of the way to ensure she didn't bleed to death on the pavement...)

Regardless, the two were fortunate that they had finally arrived at their destination. In the darkness, with her eyes half-lidded, Yomi could barely discern the exterior of Izaya's office. Beyond that it was a relatively large building. She was only vaguely aware of what was going on as Izaya stumbled through the darkness as they entered into his office.

"Namie?" he called out.

There was no response, and the jerky ride she'd been on while being carried on Izaya's back ended abruptly as he dumped her onto his couch. "Ouch!" Yomi groaned in pain from the impact, despite the well-cushioned leather that caught her fall. "Uzaya-chan has no sense of delicacy with girls." She pressed her trembling hand firmly against her wound to try and staunch the blood flow. Grimacing visibly from the pain, Yomi gritted her teeth while taking deep breaths. The cold outside had done well to numb her from feeling much, but now her skin tingled from the warmth of the heated interior.

A light flickered on suddenly, and it was blinding. Her eyelids snapped closed and in the background she heard the sound of a beeping cell phone as Izaya keyed in a number. Apparently he was calling someone.

"I hope your lady friend gets here fast or you might have a red couch and a dead body. But I guess the kidney might still be good." She mused her own thoughts out loud to keep her mind off of the pain.

As he stood there just a few feet from where she lay, Izaya smirked to himself as he listened to the idle ringing on the other end of the line, his cell phone pressed firmly against his ear. "There's no problem if the kidney is alright," he assured coldly. Yomi wasn't sure whether he was joking or not.

"Heeeello!" a voice suddenly blared from the other end of the phone. The black-haired informant was forced to pull his ear away, wincing at the deafening noise of the jubilant doctor's obnoxious answer. "Coincidentally I was just thinking it might be a good idea to call you." It was Shinra's usual antics.

In the background was the audible murmuring, "Kill, kill, kill," that was easily distinguishable as Shizuo's voice.

Casting a brief glance at the miserable Yomi, Izaya trailed across the floor and rounded his desk. He plopped down in his chair which rolled back several inches from the force of his weight. "Ah, you two were there with Shizu-chan and his girlfriend." He could vaguely remember getting a brief glance of the headless rider and her doctor boyfriend while running from Shizuo for his life. "How amusing! He should wear that pink crown more often."

Shinra chuckled nervously as Shizuo's raspy voice spoke up in the background, "The person calling... It isn't I-za-ya, is it?" The way he put murderous emphasis on each syllable of Izaya's name was a bit chilling. It left an unpleasant taste in Izaya's mouth.

"Unfortunately Shizu-chan's girlfriend is bleeding to death on my couch." The informant breathed a sigh as he twirled in his chair. Everything around him spun into an indiscernible blur, but it was positively exhilarating. (At the very least it distracted him from the drying drool on the shoulder of the coat he was still wearing.) "It's really troublesome."

"She's bleeding to death?" the doctor questioned in earnest.

"Bleeding to death?" Shizuo echoed furiously in the background. The sound of shattering glass and splintering wood followed soon after, accompanied by the sound of scrambling footsteps that Izaya could only assume belonged to Celty. No doubt the headless woman was making a fervent attempt to soothe her raging friend to keep him from destroying her shared apartment with Shinra.

"I hope you have money to pay for that, too, Shizuo." Yet Shinra showed no hint of irritation in his voice as he spoke. He breathed no exasperated sigh and, contrarily, seemed just as amused as Izaya.

Slamming his feet against the floor, Izaya stopped spinning abruptly. He was left with a dizzy feeling as everything around him seemed to wobble and shake. It didn't help that he was still a bit tipsy from the bit of alcohol he'd had earlier. "Yomi-chan got shot," he said gleefully, hoping that Shinra would once again repeat it and elicit a funny response from Shizuo. He was positively delighted at his rival's chagrin.

And he did. "Shot? How did she get shot?"

"Her shot her?" There was another crashing sound. This time Shinra didn't bother to comment on it.

"Looks like a recent wound that reopened because she wasn't taking care of it. She's offered me up one of her kidneys if I save her." Izaya picked up a pen from his desk and twirled it between his fingers.

"Her kidney...?" The doctor didn't seem to catch onto the joke.

"I'm not really interested in the illegal organ trade," Izaya confessed with a shrug, "But you're welcome to it."

Still laying on the couch adjacent to the desk which Izaya found himself sitting behind, Yomi had finally managed to peek over at him despite the bright light shining down in her face. She noted dully how well-furnished his office was as she waited for him to finish his phone conversation. Rivulets of blood had managed to trickle through the cracks between her fingers. It felt warm, albeit gooey and unpleasant.

The sound of Izaya's idle chatter left her watching him wistfully. Yomi's insatiable curiosity had her wondering who he was talking to and what he was talking about. (Though she was perhaps just as equally envious of that rolling chair of his. It looked fun to play in... Not that she was particularly thinking about playing around in her current state.) Her vision was still swimming, and she'd yet to figure out if that was because of the blood loss or the alcohol in her system.

Since the bleeding had slowed, the pain had begun to subside at least a little. She still preoccupied herself with idle thoughts to distract herself. At least until the sound of Izaya's flip phone snapping shut reeled her back to reality. Her head jerked as she quickly glanced in his direction.

The informant grinned widely at her as he approached, the heels of his shoes clicking against the floor. "He didn't even want your kidney, poor Yomi-chan." Though he didn't say it in a pitying voice.

Her eyes lingered on him as he came to a stop just a foot in front of her. Yomi had to crane her neck up to look at him. "Is he coming?" she asked with a tinge of curiosity and desperation in her voice.

"First," he said, holding one finger up in the air, "How long have you had that wound?"

Though she didn't particularly want to answer, she honestly pondered the question. "Almost two weeks, Uzaya-chan. Why do you want to know?"

Ignoring her question, he persisted. "When did it start bleeding earlier?"

"It probably aggravated it while we were running from Shi-chan. I didn't really notice it until I woke up, though." She grinned at him. "That must mean it's all Uzaya-taxi's fault. Uzaya-chan is a horrible driver. Everything was really bumpy and uncomfortable."

Not that she expected him to feel the least bit of guilt for his part in her discomfort, but Izaya actually seemed to be haughty about it. "You're blaming me?" He chuckled at her. "Were you even in a hospital after you were shot? Doesn't look like that wound was very well taken care of."

"I left the hospital the day after I was admitted."

His eyes flickered as he leaned down toward her face. "What hospital were you admitted to?" Though he hadn't made it overtly obvious before that he was fishing for information, it was spelled out clearly now.

Yomi's lips puckered slightly as she blew air in his face. "Not telling you."

Briefly he closed his eyes in response before rubbing his face with his sleeve. "Why so secretive, Yomi-chan?" He didn't seem terribly pleased at her reluctance to disclose her "secrets." As an informant it probably frustrated him to not have information on a person.

"You can only know the things I want you to know, Uzaya-chan, otherwise you'll be dangerous to me." Her eyes closed for a moment as she inhaled sharply. "You aren't just interested in me because you think I'm 'interesting'. It's because you want something, right? And I don't mean my kidney."

He cocked his head back. "Oh? You could tell?"

"Even bad taxis have things that they want to accomplish. Uzaya-chan probably has an agenda like that too."

Perhaps, he was beginning to think, he hadn't given her enough credit. Though her intelligence was surely no match to his own, she wasn't completely naive and gullible. In fact she seemed more perceptive than he had initially thought. Unfortunately for Yomi, she was at a disadvantage against someone as calculating and clever as Izaya. He could only know what she wanted him to know? That was laughable; he already knew far more than she thought he did.

—

The apartment was practically in shambles. The large sliding doors that led out to the balcony had been shattered by a flying couch that was hanging on the railing of said balcony, where Celty was struggling to pull it back over. She had been particularly alarmed by Shizuo's dangerous raging that had left her shared apartment with Shinra looking as though a hurricane had run through it.

Surveying the damage from behind his spectacles, Shinra scratched at his chin. As carefree as usual, he didn't seem quite as bothered by the state of his home as his "girlfriend" did. In fact, his thoughts were elsewhere.

"Kill, kill, kill..." The bleached-blonde man was sitting on the floor, hunched over with a cigarette clenched between his teeth. Judging by the murderous gleam in his eye, he was about to go over the edge and explode again.

Shinra placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Celty and I will go make sure everything is alright! Don't worry, your girlfriend will be okay."

Shizuo's eye twitched. "I'm coming," he stated with great determination as he suddenly stood fully. Both hands were clenched firmly at his side, his knuckles a noticeable white from the force. If his nails hadn't been cut down to the nubs, he would've surely cut the palm of his hands with them.

The headless female, who had managed to save their couch that Shizuo had chucked through their balcony doors, raced back into the living room. She already had her PDA out and her fingers were running across it furiously. _"No, you will not!"_ For once, she seemed genuinely angry with Shizuo. _"Go back home and wait there."_

"But Izaya-"

He tried to protest, but she interrupted. _"I can only fit myself and one other on the motorcycle. What is important is saving your girlfriend. Stay behind this time."_

His nostrils flared as he gritted his teeth. "He shot her." Not that Shizuo had any evidence, but the very thought left him prepared to send another miscellaneous piece of furniture flying through the house.

_"You don't know that for sure_._" _Though Celty couldn't honestly say that she trusted Izaya enough to think he wasn't capable of it, she nevertheless jumped to his defense. Whether that was because she genuinely wanted to believe that the informant wouldn't resort to such means, or she merely wanted to calm Shizuo down didn't matter.

"Celty-chan is right!" Shinra grinned affectionately over at the shadowy substance billowing out from her open neck as though looking at a person's face. "If you're there, then I can't feel her up-"

_**Smack!**_

It would've been smarter to leave his intentions unspoken.

Though Shizuo still wasn't thoroughly convinced, and still fully determined to maim and dismember every part of his rival's body, he was forced to relent. It was true that his hate for Izaya probably superseded any concern he had for Yomi, he had enough sense to know where and when to pick his battles. As much as he wanted to flail Izaya on the spot, it was more important to save a life. His shoulders sagged visibly as he stomped toward the door.

"Shizuo?"

"Going home," he snapped back as Shinra as he grabbed the door knob. (And ripped the whole door off its hinges.)

While the gray-eyed doctor merely smiled blithely to himself despite his torn up apartment, Celty seemed positively exasperated. "Are you ready, Celty-chan?" he asked her while massaging at his swollen, puffy cheek. There was definitely going to be a bruise left where she had hit him. Not that he minded it at all.

Her fingers flitted across the lit up screen for a moment. _"Are you sure it's okay to leave Shizuo like this?"_

Shinra waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry, Celty-chan. We'll fix up his girlfriend and then he'll be back to his usual self." There was a noticeable absence of the word 'happy' between 'usual' and 'self.' That was probably because Shizuo was always a bit aloof and standoffish toward most people.

_"Let's go,"_ Celty typed out hastily before shoving her PDA into her pocket. She snatched her helmet off the counter and quickly secured it over her neck. Once finished, the headless woman briskly strode down the narrow hallway leading to the front entrance of their apartment. Shinra followed closely behind her with his one cheek colored a distinct red with the imprinted mark of a hand.

"I don't think we're going to be able to close the door," Shinra observed with a smile. He didn't seem the least bit bothered that his front door was hanging lopsidedly from its half-torn off hinges. The handle was also dangling rather useless, probably broken from the force of Shizuo's grip when he'd wrenched it open.

Sighing to herself in a way that only a headless person could, Celty silently agreed with him. They were going to have to buy a new door. But that didn't matter now; they needed to make haste. So Celty beckoned her lecherous, quirky "boyfriend" along and the two descended the stairs to the base floor of the apartment building. Outside she had left her motorcycle, somewhat precariously, sitting in the middle of the concrete sidewalk where the few people in the area were forced to dodge it as they walked by.

She mounted it in one swift motion, swinging her leg over the side before settling down on the nicely cushioned seat. Shinra followed shortly thereafter, climbing over the side rather clumsily. The entire motorcycle rocked back and forth as the young doctor struggled up onto it. At last when he'd managed to take a seat, he barely had the moment to take a breath before Celty accelerated at full speed.

Shinra latched onto her for dear life and ducked his head behind her shoulder as the wind rushed into his face. In their hurry he'd forgotten to ask her to fashion him a helmet from her shadows. (Or maybe she'd intentionally neglected to do so, so he would suffer for the lewd comment he'd made earlier...)

—

"You're not going to take my kidney, Doctor-chan?"

He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, not even pausing to glance up into the face of the girl who posed the question toward him. "Celty-chan wouldn't be very happy if I did that." His eyes narrowed as he inspected the wound on the side of her stomach. The feel of a wet cloth smarted against her skin and Yomi winced at the pain. It chipped away at the coagulated blood that covered her wound. But the disinfectant stung like a thousand needles. "You really should go to a hospital for this."

"I don't like hospitals," she huffed in a childlike voice. "They were talking about keeping me there for two weeks. No thank you!"

Izaya chuckled at her dismissal. He was perched on the armrest of the couch by her feet, his eyes glued the wound on her abdomen. "So stubborn, Yomi-chan. That's why you're in so much pain and it's infected."

"How are your ribs?"

The feel of Shinra's fingers against her skin as he lightly pressed around her ribcage greatly contrasted with the cold cloth he'd been using moments ago. Not that Yomi had much of a chance to feel any relief as she hissed at the sudden pain as his fingertips jabbed into her side. "Ouch! That huuurts... That rib is broken, y'know!"

He blinked slowly before peering up at her and grinning. "I know. Still refuse to go to a hospital?"

"Why go to a hospital when I have you to help me, Doctor-chan?" she countered.

Shinra let out a resigned sigh, smiling despite his exasperation with her. "I'm not fully equipped to deal with a wound as severe as this," he admitted. "But I disinfected it, and I'll bandage it well enough for you. With that broken rib you shouldn't be moving much. It would be best if you could stay off your feet for the next few days at least."

"Impossible," she retorted in a clipped voice.

"Shizu-chan could probably help you with that, Shinra."

Yomi immediately shot Izaya a look. "Maybe I should stay here at Uzaya-chan's office instead. Since it would be so detrimental to my health to move, anyways. It's a long way back to Shi-chan's apartment."

"Good idea," Shinra agreed with a nod.

For the first time, Izaya was genuinely frowning. "Eh?" He quirked a brow questioningly at the other two. "Stay at _my_ office?" There was no mocking grin, no hint of amusement in his voice. Yomi might have thought he was angry until he suddenly choked back a laugh. "You want Yomi-chan to stay here?"

"It would be better not to move her," the doctor confirmed. "Let me just finish with these bandages..."

"She's been skipping down the streets of Ikebukuro for the past week."

"Skipping _and_ singing," Yomi corrected, very matter-of-fact.

Shinra flashed her a brief grin before concentrating on tending to her wound. He unraveled a long bandage roll and proceeded to wrap it around her abdomen. "And you've been following Shizuo too, right?"

"Ah!" A look of realization came across her face, her blue eyes widening as she suddenly remembered where it was she had seen Shinra's face before. When he'd walked into Izaya's office and talked to her, she felt a vague sense of recognition but hadn't been able to put her finger on it. "You were following Shi-chan and I when we were on our date, weren't you?"

There was, for once, a serious look on Shinra's face. He was altogether despondent to her question, too fixated on the task at hand. But Yomi didn't need to hear his answer to confirm what she already knew to be true.

"Doctor-chan, do me a favor and don't speak a word of this to Shi-chan." She held up a single finger to her lips in a hushing gesture while winking at him.

"Mm," he agreed, "Shizuo is the type that would feel guilty if he knew you'd been suffering this kind of pain for the last week. You should be glad the infection isn't bad. If it had been, you could have been dead by now." His lips curled up into a smile as he finally finished and stood to his feet. "Well, I'm finished here."

Yomi lifted her head and glanced down at the wound that he had just finished dressing. She beamed back at him. "You're pretty good at this, Doctor-chan. Thanks! But I can't promise I'll be staying here for very long."

"Just make sure Shizuo is one of the first you visit when you do try to leave," he told her before glancing over at Izaya. "Send my appreciation to Namie for letting me use her supplies and utensils since I couldn't bring mine."

Disgruntled by the turn of events, Izaya merely waved him off, "Will do."

Shinra turned on his heel toward the exit of the building. The tail of his white doctor's coat rippled with every stride he took. From his perched position on the couch, Izaya glared at the other man's receding back.

"Guess I'll be spending a lot of time with you, Uzaya-chan!"

Inwardly he groaned, having come to regret his decision to "save" her. At least, he thought, not all was lost. Even though she'd drooled all over his beloved coat, and surely if it wasn't his favorite he would've burned it already to avoid her contagious stupidity, it wasn't all for not. (However, as he'd later discover, there was a large blotch of crimson staining the back of his coat, leaving it ruined beyond what any cleaning could manage to repair.) Then he would _really_ regret his decision.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Meant to get this up a few days ago, but between school and other hobbies I haven't really have the time. Thanks for the reviews guys! If anyone cares to let me know, I'm curious as to how many are Yomi x Shizuo fans or Yomi x Izaya fans. Though Yomi and Izaya haven't had much time together yet, they're starting to! (Curious as to how much my Shizuo bias is noticeable.)

**Static Lull - **Thank you so much for the inspiring reviews, I'm so glad to get the feedback. Reaching for Nothing was my NaNo project from last year. :) I finished at about 51,000 words in November. It was insane! But the story itself is only a little over halfway finished. So unfortunately it isn't completely written. I have all the way up to Chapter 9 done and am working on Chapter 10.


	7. Unnecessary Sacrifices

**Chapter 07 - Necessary Sacrifices**

All the colors around him were coalescing as he spun faster until it all became an indiscernible blur. It was a euphoric feeling that acted as a vacuum to sweep away all of the thoughts in his head. He couldn't think anymore, all he could do was bask in the weightlessness and the silence around him. Faster, and faster he was spinning as his head lulled from side to side at the dizziness.

No longer did he have to think about the incessantly whining girl who lounged on his couch, who'd ruined his coat. There was only one way that she had unknowingly managed to redeem herself.

"Uzaya-chan, you're making _me_ dizzy," a high-pitched voice groaned from behind him. Or was it in front him? Since he was spinning around so fast he could barely understand where the voice was coming from or what exactly had been said.

But the heels of his shoes suddenly slammed against the floor and the spinning stopped abruptly. Still disoriented, he couldn't quite focus on her sprawled out figure on the couch, head supported upright as her chin rested on the palm of her hand. He could, however, distinctly make out three Yomi's. Being dizzy didn't make him feel nauseous, but seeing multiple Yomi's did.

"Sitting around is so boring. Doesn't Doctor-chan know that much?" she huffed.

Swiping a pen from off his desk, Izaya twirled it between his fingers while smirking to himself. "You wouldn't want to be on the streets of Ikebukuro right now, anyways, Yomi-chan. There's quite a bit of chaos."

This piqued her curiosity and she leaned forward from her spot on his couch. "Really?" Her eyes seemed to sparkle with interest as a catlike grin formed on her lips. "What kind of chaos is there? Does it have to do with Hiro-chan?" Of course Hiro-chan was the only thing on her mind...

"No," he responded bluntly, "Nothing to do with your beloved Hiro-chan. It actually has to do with... You."

She quirked a brow at him, her blue eyes rolling upward as she tried to ponder what role she would be playing, while completely out of commission, in Ikebukuro. "I haven't done anything recently... Especially something that didn't involve Hiro-chan..." Yomi was thinking out loud to herself, completely oblivious.

"Shizu-chan," Izaya chortled as he tossed the pen back on his desk. "Several people have landed themselves in the hospital already because of Shizu-chan. Ah, there's vending machines, parking meters, and traffic signs flying everywhere!" He seemed blithely amused at the turn of events. Granted he had expected some sort of wild reaction from Shizuo that would serve to entertain him, but he hadn't expected it to be so large scale.

"Ah!" She fell back against the cushioned arm rest as she clapped her hands together. "It must be because of milk."

The laughter suddenly died out as Izaya was now the one giving Yomi a questioningly look. While he knew of Shizuo's penchant for dairy, he wasn't quite sure how the two correlated. Yomi had apparently overlooked the obvious reason for Shizuo's anger. But, because it was amusing, Izaya decided to indulge his own curiosity by playing along with Yomi. "Milk, Yomi-chan?"

Her hair bounced as she gave a sharp, solemn nod. "He's been drinking more than usual, I think. And he hasn't been going to the store... So I've been restocking the fridge for him with milk."

"You restock his fridge with milk?" Izaya echoed in mock disbelief. In reality, he couldn't possibly be surprised at Yomi's antics because he'd simply come to expect the unexpected. Since she was so eccentric, (and in this case, a little creepy) it was only natural that she would do something... Odd like that.

"He always locks his front door which makes it extremely difficult," she admitted with a wistful look on her face. "So I have to go in through the window. It's really hard to climb through with this wound and juggling the milk bottles, too."

Alright, he was wrong. She could still surprise him. "Isn't Shizu-chan's apartment on the second story?" Not that he particularly made it his business to know everything about his rival... (Although, actually, he did.)

Yomi smiled and gave a short nod, "Yep!" She could already tell what he wanted to ask next from the contemplative look on his face. "Shi-chan was so cute when I told him! He thought I scaled the side of the building to get to his window. So silly... There's a fire escape that leads right up to his window. He always forgets to lock it."

"Aha!" Izaya drawled, finally understanding. "So you really are Shizu-chan's stalker."

"Uzaya-chan," she said in a scolding voice, "I'm not a stalker! I just have to make sure I take really good care of Shi-chan so that he'll help me when I ask him to. That's why there's a problem now because I couldn't get him milk."

There was little point in explaining the _real_ reason why Shizuo was raging, which more than likely had nothing to do with dairy. Izaya was content to let her believe that, because she hadn't "fed her pet," as she seemed to be putting it, Shizuo was tearing Ikebukuro apart.

"Uzaya-chan..." Those blue eyes were looking at him imploringly all of a sudden. "You have to take some milk to Shi-chan's apartment."

The informant cocked his head back, brows raised. "Take milk to Shizu-chan?" he questioned. "Why would I want to do that?"

"If Shi-chan doesn't have milk and something happens, I'll be really disappointed," she told him somberly.

"Disappointed?"

The girl gave a nod with a sad look on her face. "I sat out in the cold for a whole night, hours on end waiting for him outside of his apartment, because I knew he was the strongest. If I lost him, then... That's like losing my queen! You can't lose your queen in chess, Uzaya-chan, or it's really difficult to win."

"Your queen..." Which reminded him of the pink paper crown, and suddenly Izaya understood. The room erupted with a fit of laughter as his hands flew to his stomach. He just couldn't stop, thinking about the image of Shizuo perched atop the back of Celty's bike, brandishing a stop sign with a pink crown on his head. A queen? He was a queen!

Not entirely understanding what was supposed to be so amusing about it, she glowered at him. "Don't you have a queen on your board, Uzaya-chan?" She motioned toward the board with miscellaneous pieces, only a few of them actually belonging to chess.

"No queen," he admitted as his gaze followed the direction she was pointing. The chess board he used was laid out just a few feet away from him on a table, pieces from checkers, chess, and shogi all mixed together in an elaborate mimicry of Ikebukuro and the more important of its residence. "I only observe things as they play out, Yomi-chan, so I'm not one of the pieces."

"Aren't you?" she challenged with a distinct glimmer in her eyes. "Maybe you're a piece without knowing it."

Izaya granted her a skeptical look. "Oh? What piece am I?"

Yomi raised her thin fingers and pressed them over her lips to muffle a giggle. "Uzaya-chan is a knight. Since he's unpredictable, doesn't move directly, and is really difficult to use." It seemed an accurate description, despite how demeaning it came across. But not entirely expected. A knight was, quite honestly, the last piece that Izaya expected to be compared to.

"I'm a knight am I?" he mused, drawing his finger across his upper lip, which twitched from the cold feel of his silver ring as it brushed against his skin.

Sighing contentedly, Yomi closed her eyes. "That's right. You can be my knight and Shi-chan can be my queen, Uzaya-chan. And I'm the one sitting on the throne where no one can reach me. Things just have to stay like that until I can take out the other king."

"Such wild ambitions, Yomi-chan, but I'm not interested. I'll watch you but I have no interest in participating directly."

Her lips puckered in dissatisfaction. "You're too quick to reject the idea, Uzaya-chan... I know!" Suddenly she shot upright, which sent a shooting pain through her abdomen. She flopped back against the couch with eyes wide as saucers and a horrified look. "Ow, ow, ow... That hurt."

"It's punishment for your stupid ideas."

Unfazed by his insult, she gritted her teeth momentarily until the pain slowly began to subside. "If it would change your mind, I could take care of you, too, Uzaya-chan. Like I take care of Shi-chan by bringing him milk."

"Once again, not interested," he said offhandedly as he twirled around in his chair once.

"It's no fun just observing, you have to get involved!"

Unaffected despite her protests, he stopped suddenly upon glancing at the digital clock on the desk. The bright letters flashing at him reminded him of a previous endeavor he'd planned for the day. He stood abruptly. "Looks like it's time for me to head out, Yomi-chan. Have fun laying there for the rest of the day." Dressed in nothing more than his normal pair of dark, loose fitting jeans and a form-fitting shirt; for once the informant was not adorned by his beloved fur-lined coat, and that was something Yomi noticed instantly as he strode past her.

"What happened to your coat, Uzaya-chan?"

He paused at the mention of it and ruefully glanced at his arms, bare of the thickly insulated coat that kept him warm even during the coldest days of Ikebukuro. "Ah, that one? You'll be buying me a new one as soon as you're moving again, Yomi-chan. I hope you still have plenty of money left over. That was a custom fit." His lips curled into a mocking smile. Before she could answer, he skipped toward the door where he once again stopped. "Oh, yes. Namie-chan will be in later. Have fun!"

She craned her neck and stared after him, even after the door had slammed closed behind him... And she wondered out loud, "Who is Namie...?" Maybe it was a cat.

—

The half-smoked cigarette protruding from his gritted teeth was so crooked and crinkled that it instead looked more like a gnarled tooth. He was glowering at everything with a particularly murderous look on his face, murmuring words beneath his breath that distinctly sounded like a death chant: "Kill, kill, kill..."

Even Tom found himself to be particularly unsettled by his bodyguard's unusual behavior. He'd already failed to hold Shizuo back from landing three people in the hospital and was beginning to wonder if perhaps it would've been better to give him _another_ day off. "Shizuo," he drawled in a low voice as he paused suddenly at a street corner and turned toward the blonde man following him.

"Eh?" His brows twisted questioningly as his head tilted. He seemed to be antsy, gnashing his teeth against the butt of the cigarette as he stood there.

"Is something bothering you?" Although it was against his policy to ask such a personal question, Tom felt obliged to try and reassure Shizuo enough that they could continue with business as usual. Undoubtedly, he was concerned with his employee's well-being, too, but that didn't change the work code.

Shizuo's head rolled back as he grunted to himself. "Nothing in particular." It was an obvious lie, but he didn't seem particularly inclined to talk about it either.

"Something to do with your girlfriend?" Tom ventured a guess.

From behind those blue shades, Shizuo's eyes flashed and suddenly he withdrew his fists from his pocket. "You mean Yomi?" He averted his gaze and grasped the cigarette from in between his lips with two fingers and proceeded to crush it. "Yeah, I guess," he said vaguely as he dropped it on the ground, a distinct ashy burn mark left on the palm of his hand, though he didn't seem to pay it any mind.

"What happened?"

Shizuo exhaled slowly and slid his fingers between the short, disheveled locks of his bleached hair. "Who knows," he breathed out quietly, in a voice that signified his own frustration. The helpless feeling that came with not knowing anything is what left him angry. Not the ordinary explosive anger he was used to, but a more long lasting, dull ache that left him feeling hollow inside. Sullenly, he kicked at an empty beer can that rolled against his shoe. It went flying across the street and shattered the window of a passing car. There was an earsplitting noise as its wheels screeched to a halt and it slid into the vehicle in front of it.

Exasperated, Tom gazed at the accident unfolding in the intersection and promptly turned toward Shizuo with a grim look on his face. "You should head home for today. Take the next few days off."

"Mm? Alright..." Too consumed by his own thoughts, Shizuo didn't even notice the catastrophe his absentminded actions had caused. He merely kept his eyes glued to the sidewalk as he slowly turned in a roundabout motion and shuffled back the way they'd come. It wasn't even the direction to his apartment.

Breathing a sigh, Tom massaged his temples with his fingertips. The day was turning out to be a bigger headache than he had imagined.

—

"Who are you supposed to be?"

Yomi's brows furrowed as she stared back at brunette woman who returned her gaze with an equally apprehensive expression of her own. "You're definitely not a cat," the blue-eyed girl said to herself. "You must be Namie-chan."

The woman in the green turtleneck seemed to roll her eyes as she took a seat on the adjacent couch, carrying a laptop case with her. "Izaya must have brought you here. Did he go off again to troll the city?"

"Don't you mean for a stroll?"

"No," she responded evenly, "I meant troll."

The wording confused Yomi who assumed it was some kind of underground jargon used by people like this lady and Izaya. But the more she thought about, the more she began to wonder... "Are you Uzaya-chan's girlfriend?"

Namie suddenly paused in the middle of pulling her laptop out of its case and looked over at Yomi with eyes that could kill. "What?" she seethed in a dangerously low growl. "I'm his secretary." Though even admitting that made her shudder to herself. What a disgusting position she'd gotten herself into.

"Right, you're too pretty." Yomi grinned at her.

Unimpressed, Namie proceeded to fiddle with her now open laptop, her fingers skittering across the keyboard. Though she remained focused on her work, she ventured a question. "So what are you doing here?"

With her bottom lip protruding slightly, Yomi pondered the question. How was she supposed to answer that? It was a rather long story that couldn't really be summed up in one simple sentence or even two. "I was shot... Uzaya-chan carried me... And Doctor-chan treated my wound."

"Interesting," she mumbled to herself as she paused for just a moment in the middle of her typing before continuing again. Despite acting intrigued she remained engrossed in whatever work she was preoccupying herself with. Her lips didn't even twitch into a shadow of a smile, set instead in a tight line.

"When is Uzaya-chan going to get back?"

"Not sure," came the despondent reply as Namie shuffled through a sheaf of papers that she'd also brought with her. She seemed entirely uninterested in engaging herself in a conversation with Yomi.

The dark-haired girl sank back against the couch and sulked. How was she supposed to lie about such a stuffy, boring office for several days while her wound healed? Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to listen to that goofy doctor.

Fortunately, at that exact moment, the door burst open and in came a cheerfully skipping Izaya. He seemed to almost be humming to himself as he swayed from side to side, shuffling right past Namie who stopped him dead in his tracks when she asked, "So what happened to your coat?"

Suddenly he frowned, glancing briefly in Yomi's direction. "Ah, that? Some ingrate bled all over it and I had to throw it away." He feigned an exaggerated sigh - although it was true that he mourned the loss. "Truly irreplaceable, Namie-san, I don't look myself without it, do I?"

"It was ugly, anyway."

"The fur tickled, too," Yomi agreed with a resigned nod.

Looking hurt, Izaya dramatically gasped, "How mean!"

"So," Namie said suddenly, snapping her laptop closed. She turned around in her seat and glanced back at Izaya with a fierce look in her chocolate brown eyes. "How long is she," she made a quick motion toward Yomi, "Going to be staying in your office?"

"A few days?" he guessed with a small shrug, pretending not to know and moreover not to care.

With a look that spelled out a silent suffering, Namie turned back in her seat toward the stack of papers on the glass coffee table in front of her. "A few days," she repeated out loud. "I have to deal with _that_ for two days?"

"Oh?" He leaned toward her with a curious look on his face. "Did Yomi-chan say something to upset you?"

"I thought Namie-chan was your girlfriend," Yomi offered with a large grin.

This time both Namie and Izaya frowned, and in unison they both chimed, "No." Despite Izaya's joking nature and Namie's reluctance to say much of anything, neither could keep quiet on the subject of any relationship between them.

Smirking, the informant regarded his secretary with a look of curiosity. "Does the idea offend you that much?"

"You're better off with someone as annoying as you are... Like her." She jabbed a finger in Yomi's direction.

Although it seemed to be an insult to Yomi, she didn't take it as such. Instead she shook her head and said, "That's not possible, Namie-chan. Uzaya-chan is too annoying even for someone like me. And his piggy back rides suck, he wouldn't make a good taxi."

"Taxi?"

Izaya grunted, turned suddenly and stomped over to his desk, where he plopped down hard against his rolling chair. He swiveled around to his computer where his fingers hovered over the keyboard just moments before dashing back and forth. "Do you have that paperwork finished, Namie-san?"

They were talking _business_, and Yomi had the distinct impression that business was the equivalent of boring. She closed her eyes as they chattered away about matters unrelated to anything she cared about. There was only one other place she could think that she wanted to be. _Shi-chan's apartment,_ she thought to herself,_ teasing him is so fun._ And while he would probably disagree, she loved his reactions. "It's Sunday, right?"

"Thinking about Tuesday already?" Izaya guessed easily, not faltering in his focus on the computer. His fingers flew across the keys which clicked noisily as he pressed each one, displaying typing skills that were surely unmatched.

Not that Yomi marveled at them. She was, indeed, too busy thinking about Tuesday. "We have to go back to that sushi place and use your plan, Uzaya-chan. Drinky, drinky until they're so smashed that information about Hiro-chan just spills from their fat, blubbering lips!"

"How eloquent," Namie mumbled as she scribbled on a post it note and promptly stuck onto the cover page of a stack of papers. She set it off to the side and reached for her laptop again.

"You said 'we'? Sorry, Yomi-chan, but I never said I would go with you." His hand darted from the keyboard to the mouse, which he deftly rolled across the cushioned pad it sat upon as he clicked away at a website. "Until you buy me a new coat and procure some suitable entertainment, I'm not interested."

"Not interested, not interested, not interested," she mocked in a sullen voice, "That's all you say, Uzaya-chan. This time I'm not backing down. If you don't come with me then I'll buy you a pink coat."

"So you think pink would compliment me?"

"Not unless you want to put ribbons in your hair to match it."

The mental image of Izaya in a pink jacket with matching ribbons tying up his hair made Namie feel nauseous. A bitter taste rolled across her tongue as she swallowed it and tried desperately to tune their antics out and focus on her paperwork. They were too alike. It was bad enough to have to deal with one Izaya daily, let alone a female, more eccentric version of him as well.

"I'll even treat you if you come with me this time, Uzaya-chan," she whined with a pleading look on her face. Lip protruding slightly, she tried her best to offer up the "sad puppy dog look" that most girls used to their advantage. Unfortunately on Yomi it looked more like she was cross-eyed, delirious, and possibly crazy.

The crazy part, as far as Namie was concerned, was absolutely accurate. "Izaya if you don't go with her, and I have to hear her beg one more time, I'm going to quit." Her straightforward tone belied the viciousness with which she would see those very words through, regardless of any obligations she had.

As though that might not be enough to sway him, Yomi offered up something he couldn't refuse. "I'll answer one of your questions, Uzaya-chan. Whichever one you want to ask me."

"One hour," he said, as he glanced down at the paperwork spread out over his desk. From a nearby mug stuffed with various writing utensils, among them everything from markers to highlighters to pens, he plucked an ordinary pencil. "I'll go with you for one hour, Yomi-chan. You better make it entertaining." He drew the lead tip across the some of the text on a one of the stacks of the papers, marking it out. Though to Yomi it looked more like he was doodling.

Albeit disappointed at the short time frame, Yomi was at least satisfied that he'd agreed to go with her. He really was just like the knight piece. So difficult to maneuver, annoying, and frustrating to deal with. She would rather have another queen.

"Do you really know how to play chess, Yomi-chan?"

She chewed at her thumb nail while observing the board closely. Not a single piece had been moved yet. They were all perfectly aligned in their respective spots, ivory standing starkly against its ebony opponent. At odds they opposed each other in great contrast, waiting for their puppeteers to set them into action to decimate the other.

"I know how to play," she drawled slowly as she pulled her hand away from her mouth and reached out toward one of the pawns. Grasping the marble head firmly between two fingers, she moved it forward two spaces. "Your turn."

Despite Sunday being lengthy and uneventful enough to bore her into death, Yomi had managed to entice Izaya into a game of strategy. He seemed reluctant to engage in any sort of play with her, obviously thinking himself superior enough to win. But Yomi's confidence remained high, regardless of however much experience he had.

"Have you ever played it before?" he asked, not even pausing to debate what move he was going to make.

As his piece came to rest on a white square, Yomi's eyes flicked up from his fingers which had been grasping the marble pawn and peered up into his eyes. She grinned mischievously. "Hiro-chan was a champion in chess during high school. He's the one who taught me how to play." Perhaps overconfident was the word.

"You talk about him so easily. People might think it's a little weird that you don't seem bothered at all about your lover's death, Yomi-chan~" He leaned forward in his chair and extended his hand. His fingertip came to rest on the top of one of her pawns. "Setting up a queen's gambit? Little too predictable, you know."

"Why should I be bothered?" The piece that his finger had been resting upon was suddenly jerked away as she moved it forward to complete the gambit she had intended to setup. Yomi's lips lifted into a lofty grin as she leaned back into the cushioned leather couch, feeling triumphant despite having her plan sniffed out before she'd even completed it.

In return, Izaya knowingly took the gambit. He lifted the pawn she'd moved just seconds ago away from the board and set it directly in front of himself, bearing a smirk despite the inevitable advantage he'd handed her. "Most people mourn the loss of their loved ones, Yomi-chan. You're just a little weird."

"I'm not weird," she argued in a subdued tone. "The people who waste their time crying are really strange. What's there to cry about? I'm too busy trying to hunt down the people who killed Hiro-chan in the first place." Her eyes were shifting from his side of the chess board and back to her own, planning out the next move entirely unaware of what it was that he already had planned for her.

"Don't be too hasty, Yomi-chan," he warned the moment she reached for her the white bishop. "About Hiro-chan, it almost sounds like you don't miss him."

She regarded him suspiciously as she ignored his warning and moved the piece as she had originally intended. "Thanks for the warning, Uzaya-chan, but hastiness is what chess is all about. I don't like to spend time thinking things out too much. That's another way of wasting time and you only waste time when you really need to." Yomi crossed her arms over her chest and furrowed her brows as she watched him make his move. "You really don't sound like you've ever lost someone you loved, Uzaya-chan, or you wouldn't be asking all these questions."

"That's true," he agreed without reservation.

"Since you just like watching people, you probably don't get attached enough to care about the pieces you lose, right?" Yomi picked up the queen from the board and eyed it with an unreadable expression. "Maybe if you have a really powerful piece you feel a little disappointed when you lose it, but sacrifices are necessary. On a chess board there is only one important piece." When she returned her queen to the chess board, it was directly in the line of sight of its black counterpart. She'd setup a mutual loss; a queen for a queen, if he accepted it.

"You forget one thing, Yomi-chan. I'm not an active participant on the chessboard, so there is no important piece." A smirk played upon his lips as he made an unexpected move that left Yomi staring at him wide-eyed, "Checkmate." Though he'd left his king open, which she had thought would leave her an opportunity, he'd gone completely on the offense while disregarding the importance of any of his pieces. Yomi in the meantime had valued her king so greatly that she'd gone to such great lengths to protect him, losing several pieces in the process.

As she flopped against the couch, the long locks of her black hair were left tousled and covering her face in a thick curtain. It looked as though she was pouting, but beneath that thick hair of hers was a narrow grin. "I can't believe you beat me, Uzaya-chan."

He leaned back in his chair, glancing over the white pieces he'd managed to capture before the end of the battle. It was rather ironic that she had taken more of his pieces than he had taken of hers, and yet he nevertheless came out the victor. "That wasn't a very entertaining game. All of your moves were too predictable. It bored me."

"Then you want me to do something unpredictable?" Yomi tucked a few loose tendrils behind her ear as she sat up straight, her legs folded beneath her. "If you're bored I can do something really entertaining."

Skeptical, he scoffed at her. "Something entertaining? Like stuffing your cheeks full enough that you look like a pig? Or getting so smashed that someone has to carry you home while you bleed to death on their coat?" Izaya quipped with a look of disdain which betrayed the smile on his face. He shook his head and used his trademark line, "Not interested."

"Don't be such a sourpuss," she chided as she leaned over the table, balancing with one hand pressed firmly against the glass surface while she press her other hand over his eyes. "Just close your eyes and cooperate, Uzaya-chan. I learned this one from Hiro-chan!"

Pinching at her hand with two fingers, as if touching something disgusting, he tried to peel it away from his face. "If it's anything like your chess playing skills, then I'm _really_ not interested."

"It's better, it's better," she assured in a pouting tone as she pressed her hand firmly over his face. "Just do it!"

It was fortunate that Namie had been late coming to the office, otherwise she would've been bashing her head against the wall while suffering their antics. She'd spent all of Sunday with a pained, pissed off look on her face. And Izaya distinctly remembered her demanding serious compensation for sticking around, though she'd only mumbled it beneath her breath as she stomped out late on Sunday night. Now it was noon on Monday, and although she wasn't particularly an "early bird," she was still timely about arriving at ten o'clock.

But in the face of an insistent Yomi, even if Namie had been there to admonish the two of them for their indulgent, juvenile behavior, it wouldn't have made much of a difference. If Yomi wanted Izaya to close his eyes, there was little more to do than oblige. He would be lying to say she wasn't at least a _little_ entertaining. (In her own oddball, creepy sort of way...)

"Are your eyes closed yet, Uzaya-chan?"

Reluctantly he closed his eyes and grasped Yomi's wrist, forcefully pulling her hand away from his face. "They're closed, Yomi-chan. I hope you make this worth it or I'm going to leave early," his sing-song voice chimed. Isolated in the darkness that came with lack of sight, he listened intently in hopes of being able to discern her actions, but all that met his ears was an utter lack of noise; complete silence.

It was perhaps only fifteen seconds until she, at last, said, "Okay, open your eyes!"

Expecting nothing, or perhaps rather expecting something utterly uncreative and childish, he opened his eyes. Much to Izaya's surprise, hovering just a few inches in front of his nose was an indiscernible shape that Yomi had crafted using only her fingers. It looked kind of like... Well, he wasn't really sure what it was supposed to look like.

"It's a dog," she announced with a grin, "Woof!"

Not amused by it, he flicked the "dog" in the head and stood up. The legs of the chair scooted against the floor noisily, pushed back from his weight. He momentarily regarded Yomi with a look of boredom before shoving his hands into his pockets and heading toward the door. "Time for me to head out, Yomi-chan. I won't see you again until tomorrow night." His murky red eyes peered back at her as he paused just short of the door. "By the way, I don't really like dogs that well, I'm more fond of cats."

She quickly adjusted the "dog" she'd created with her fingers and peeked over the side of the couch, lifting her hands up high enough so that he could see the adjustments she'd made at his behest. "Meow?"

He gave a small snort of what sounded like laughter as he wrenched the door open and slipped through it. It slammed noisily behind him and left Yomi to the silence of his office, unoccupied by anyone else.

"See you tomorrow, Uzaya-chan!" she called after him, despite the fact that he was long gone by the time she managed to say it. Her fingers untangled themselves from each other and the makeshift "animal" she'd tried to create with it for Izaya's amusement disappeared.

With his absence she was left on her own with little more to do than stare the ceiling as she waited. The pain in her abdomen had greatly subsided and remained only a dull ache that she could faintly feel. Not moving for almost two days had done wonders for the aggravated wound. Though Yomi suspected it was time to change the bandages, which were discolored by a dark red; her dried blood.

With her fingernail she poked at the corner of the bandages, fastened around her with nothing more than medical tape and a safety clip. She wondered if it had started to heal over yet, or if it was still the bloody gaping hole she'd remembered seeing when she was first shot. What a horrifying sight it had been, she mused to herself.

The sound of zipper caught Yomi's attention and her head jerked up. Her eyes scanned the room quickly, and came to a stop where the brunette secretary had taken a seat on the couch adjacent to her. "Namie-chan!"

A sharp pen was suddenly pointed just inches away from her eyes, the tip of it glistening with ink in the dim sunlight that poured in from the windows obscured by closed curtains. "Don't talk to me. I have a headache."

"How boring," Yomi sighed as she sprawled herself out on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. "Namie-chan, do you think-"

"What did I say about talking?" she hissed back in a dangerously low growl.

Ignoring the warning, Yomi continued, "-that you could let me borrow some of your clothes tomorrow?"

This time, rather than biting Yomi's head off, Namie seemed to take the request into consideration. "What do you need to borrow my clothes for?" There was actually a hint of curiosity to her voice.

"I haven't bathed in two days, I have dried blood all over this shirt, and I'm going on a date tomorrow night!" Not that it was really a date, all things considered, but in Yomi's mentality the mere act of "going out" with someone to do _something_ was good enough to be considered a "date."

Namie tapped her pen against her lip thoughtfully. "A date?" she seemed skeptical, but didn't voice her cynicism. Rather she was wearing a mischievous grin that didn't quite seem befitting of the usually solemn features of her face. "Sure, I can loan you some clothes. You're going with Izaya, right? I have only one condition."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Man you sure don't have much time when you're in college. :( Did the Izaya x Yomi pairing up its ante in this chapter maybe? :D Since you saw more of them together. I'm trying to make it more even. Thanks so much for the reviews guys.


	8. Counterattack

**Chapter 08 – Counterattack**

"I don't remember citing the need for a disguise, Yomi-chan. But you pull off that schoolgirl uniform well." It would've sounded like a compliment if he didn't sound snarky and sarcastic, wearing that ever mocking smile of his that spelled out how insincere his words truly were.

"You sound like a perverted old man trying to pick me up, Uzaya-chan," she quipped in an equally caustic way of speaking.

The girl, whose age Izaya had yet to pinpoint, although he suspected she was in her early twenties, had the long locks of her hair hoisted up into fashionable pigtails. Makeup had accentuated her otherwise unnoticeable, perhaps even plain features. She looked pretty, and she looked young. It was, he supposed, a good ruse to use on perverted old men who were into that kind of thing.

Yomi spun around on the tips of her toes, the hem of her skirt flying up, though not enough to reveal any more than her lower thighs. "It's a lure for creepy people like you, Uzaya-chan! Isn't it sooo pretty?" She was obviously taunting him. "Namie-chan dressed me like this." Her hair whipped through the air, and came dangerously close to slapping him right in the face if he hadn't stepped back.

They stood directly in front of the sushi restaurant that were supposed to enter and yet nevertheless loitered outside, engaged in nothing more than idle banter. "It suits your personality perfectly, Yomi-chan, especially your maturity." He smiled at her despite the insinuated insult.

Unfazed by his relentless jabs, she beamed back at him. "At first I wondered why Namie-chan would have a uniform like this, but then I figured it out!"

"Oh?" he quirked a brow at her, "What exaggerated, imaginative explanation have you divined, Yomi-chan?"

"She's your secretary. Obviously you have a schoolgirl fetish and she sometimes wears it to your office." Feeling triumphant, and perhaps even proud at her own deductive abilities, Yomi grinned at him.

Izaya flicked her on the forehead. "Wrooong," he cooed at her in a hushed tone, "That's just her old school uniform."

Unaffected by her own defeat, Yomi massaged at her forehead, her eyes rolled up in her head as though she was trying to look it, despite being completely unable to do so. "That really hurt, you're not gentle at all. It's no wonder Namie-chan doesn't want to date you."

"The feeling is mutual." He paused to glance in at the restaurant and then peered back at Yomi, his red eyes alight with a gleam of mischief. "Before we go in, Yomi-chan, I want the answer to my question."

Suddenly standing rigid, she saluted him and stiffly responded, "Yes, sir! Ask away your question and Yomi will definitely answer your question, one hundred percent truthfully, sir!" She seemed more energetic and hyper than usual, which was something that, to Izaya, wasn't necessarily _good_. "But only one question," she paused to clarify, her shoulders falling lax as her arms returned limply to her sides.

"What do you know about Hiro-chan's sister?" The terms of their unwritten agreement had ensured him one question, and Izaya had intelligently posed one that could possibly elicit a whole paragraph of information rather than a question that would garner only a yes or no answer. He hoped to procure knowledge from Yomi that he didn't already have himself.

"You know about Hiro-chan's sister?" Her head tilted slightly to the side, a pensive look on her face. "That's kind of a loaded question, Uzaya-chan. What do you want me to tell you about her?"

"Everything," he answered vaguely.

Just as she had expected from him. Yomi's head bobbed from side to side, her pigtails swaying with the motion until suddenly she stopped and her face lit up. "They're twins. Her name is Kaiya. In a month from now they would both be twenty-two years-old. Hiro-chan loved her the most!"

"Oh? Aren't you jealous of her, then?" He was prodding her for additional information, and although it sounded like an innocent question spoken out of curiosity, he was seeking a definite answer to an assumption he'd already made.

"Why would I be jealous?" Confused, Yomi furrowed her brows at him. "Kaiya-chan is dead."

Intrigued by this unexpected revelation, he leaned toward her. "That's not what the official records say, Yomi-chan. Are you telling the truth? Or is there something you're trying to hide from me?"

"Nope! Kaiya-chan is really dead."

"My information says she's studying abroad." The way she seemed so bluntly honest about Kaiya Inoue being dead would make any other person doubt their information, but Izaya was quite confident in his ability to read people. Regardless of how upfront Yomi presented herself, she'd already stated herself that she didn't trust him. She was definitely hiding something. That was why he'd asked the question in the first place, despite already knowing the answer. Either she would confirm it as the truth, challenge it and give him new information he didn't already have, or he would catch her in a lie and unravel the truth himself. Yet none of those things were happening. She remained steadfast in her claim, which was too radical in Izaya's opinion to be the truth and yet he couldn't write it off entirely either.

"I don't know where you got your information, Uzaya-chan, but I promise you I saw Kaiya-chan die the same night Hiro-chan died." She grinned at him as she leaned toward him. Their heights were similar enough that she didn't even have to lean forward on her tiptoes; they were close enough with their noses only a few inches apart. It was a strange sensation for him to have her warm breath buffeting against his lips as she spoke. "Befitting, don't you think? For twins to be born together and die together."

"At least your breath doesn't stink, Yomi-chan." Indeed, it was a refreshing mint smell that most likely came from the gum she'd been annoyingly smacking on the entire time they'd been talking. "But I've asked my question. Unless you're content to waste more time standing out here in the cold, let's finish this."

Weaving through the people clamoring on the sidewalk, who all seemed to be wandering aimlessly, the two pushed their way through and made it into the interior of the sushi restaurant. They were instantly grinned at by a looming figure that greeted them heartily with a large smile plastered across their face. "Hi Yomi, Izaya," Simon turned respectively toward them both as he said hello. "You have come back for more good sushi."

"Mm, Yomi-chan wasn't happy enough with how she stuffed her stomach last time. Since she said she'd treat me this time, I couldn't refuse." Izaya exaggerated a sigh which he supplied with a shrug, as though to say, _"It can't be helped."_

Simon didn't seem to take notice of Yomi's odd choice in clothing, or at least if he did, he made no mention of it. Instead he seemed happy to direct them to an empty booth. Impatient, Yomi could barely wait to take a seat before asking him, "Simon, are the guys that usually come with Hiro-chan here yet?"

"Confidentiality, Yomi-chan, he won't disclose that information," Izaya said knowingly, wagging his finger in the air. "Isn't that right, Simon? You can't tell us directly, so you'll leave us to figure it out on our own."

His plump lips upturned into a jovial smile. "I will bring sushi."

Lack of any proper answer seemed to indicate that Izaya's assumptions were correct. "That's not fair," Yomi whined as she slumped forward onto the table, resting her chin on the ledge. "If he told us this much already he might as well go all the way and point his finger right at them."

"No need," he assured in a smooth voice as he surveyed the other occupied booths around them. As per usual, the restaurant wasn't busy enough to leave them guessing between a dozen customers. There were only four other people seated around them. Coincidentally all were middle-aged men. One pair was dressed in casual clothing while the other was adorned in suits and ties.

"It's a guessing game! Which couple do you think it is, Uzaya-chan? We can make bets!"

While he was uninterested in gambling, he didn't mind engaging in a battle of wits against Yomi. (A battle that he would inevitably win. It was hardly much of a competition.) "Forget the bets, unless you have something extremely interesting to put at stake this time, Yomi-chan."

"You want me to answer another question? I could do that... But what will you give me?" Suddenly she'd perked up in her seat, completely upright as she waited in earnest for an answer.

"A question? Tsk, tsk, so predictable."

Yomi seemed to ignore him, making a goofy face with her lower lip pushed out and her eyes rolled up in her head as she tried furiously to blow away the loose tendrils hanging in front of her eyes. "You call everything predictable, Uzaya-chan. It's starting to sound predictable every time you say that."

Seeming to have tireless patience for her antics, Izaya promptly smiled back at her. "Instead you'll owe me a favor, Yomi-chan. Since that's settled... I'll speak with the two dressed in casual clothing. You speak with the others. The person who comes out with information on Hiro-chan wins."

"What do I get if I win?" she asked eagerly, giving up on the loose hairs dangling down into her eyes as she leaned forward.

Offhandedly, Izaya lifted his hand and formed a zero with his pointer finger and thumb. Then he reached over and flicked her right in the head. "Absolutely nothing, Yomi-chan, because I'm going to win this one."

She slapped a hand across her forehead and rubbed at the newly forming bump. "You really seem to enjoy doing that, Uzaya-chan. Is this some kind of excuse you're using to touch me? You really are a pervert..."

Smirking, he stood up from the booth and paused just as he took a step. "Oh, yes... If I win, I'm not going to give you the information I get until you pay back the favor. Good luck Yomi-chan." He cackled beneath his breath as he shuffled over to the table with the two happily chattering men.

Just as equally determined to win, Yomi abandoned the booth they'd been sitting at and skipped over to the two men in smoothly ironed suits, complete with ties and sunglasses. Never before had she seen such inconspicuous people, and for this reason she suspected they had to be the men that Simon had referred to.

"Hi there, Suit-chans!" she greeted with flourish, giving a sweeping curtsey that looked a little odd in the short skirt she was wearing. "Can I sit with you two?" Not that it mattered that she had asked. Before either stoic-faced man could open his mouth to speak, she'd already nudged one of them over and plopped down in the booth beside them.

The two exchanged glances before peering over at her. "Who are you?" One of them asked.

"I'll call you Suit-chan Number One," she responded, pointing to the man sitting across from her, then respectively to the one beside her, "And you can be Suit-chan Number Two." Yomi gave herself an appreciative nod at having so creatively come up with names, instead of asking for them. "As for me, my name is Yomi!"

Suit-chan Number One, as she had dubbed him, seemed to grimace in response as he shifted uneasily in his seat. The two were dressed perfectly to match and the only particularly distinguishing features between the two was the oversized nose and thin lips that formed a narrow line on Suit-chan Number One. But as for Suit-chan Number Two...

She stroked at her chin as she tried to figure out what it was about him that was so distinctly different. Her eyes stared him down with the look of a predator. The man robotically turned his head away, as though uncomfortable with her intense gaze. "Aha!" she exclaimed, pounding her bottom of her fist against her open palm. "You have a runny nose."

The poker face on Number Two broke with that one line as he scrambled to grab for a napkin, hurriedly dabbing away at his nose. "I have a cold," he grumbled irritably.

"What do you want?" Number One persisted.

Slowly, Yomi looked over at the one addressing her. "Oh, me?" she asked, pointing to herself as though she didn't already know that he was indeed referring to her.

He gave a firm nod.

Bouncing up and down in her seat, she clapped her hands excitedly. "I thought you would never ask, Suit-chan Number One!" As though she was pretending to be a meek schoolgirl, she leaned forward and whispered in a hushed voice, "Actually... There's something really important I wanted to ask the two of you about."

Number One slowly reached up and pulled the sunglasses away from his face. Removing the shades revealed two beady eyes that seemed to mismatch the rest of his face. He was clinically ugly. "What is it?" The tone of his voice revealed no amusement. In fact, he maintained a grim look on his face. (Or maybe his face was just outright grim to look at?)

Feeling what might have been pity for the ugly man, she gently reached across the table and took his hands into her own. "Mister," she whispered almost breathlessly. It mirrored a scene that one might see in a dramatic soap opera where a woman was delivering her confession. "Actually... You look really ugly with your glasses off." She shook her head sorrowfully. "I think it would be best for you to put them back on."

The man's brow wiggled in a comical look of irritation. "What?" he spat back.

As though he'd sensed the tense air, so thick that one could cut through it with a knife, Simon interrupted the conversation by setting down a platter of freshly made sushi. "Good sushi," he announced with a pleasant smile as he turned to Yomi. "Izaya left and told me to give this to you." Stiffly, the dark-skinned man outstretched his hand with a folded napkin held in his grasp.

Tilting her head with a look of mild curiosity on her face, Yomi accepted it while unaware of the glare Number One was shooting her from across the table. She hastily flipped the napkin open and read the few words scribbled upon it, out loud. "Yomi-chan, I already found everything out. I'm leaving first. Bye-bye~" She frowned. "I was wrong...?"

"Yomi, was it?" Number Two finally asked, having finally spoken up after clearing up the embarrassing state of his note. He looked at her inquisitively. "What 'really important' thing did you have to ask us about?"

Crumpling the napkin into a fist, she beamed back at him. "Looks like I messed up, Suit-chan Number Two. You Suit-chans have nothing to do with this, so... Oops?" Yomi shrugged awkwardly and averted her eyes as she stood up. "Just consider what I said free advice, Suit-chans. Have a nice night!" After an emphatic wave, she skipped off with the napkin still tightly clenched in her fist.

—

The sound of the soles of her shoes, scuffling against the cement sidewalk, echoed in the air around her. It was all the occupied the silence as she finally reached the foot of the metal stairwell that led up to the second story of Shizuo's apartment. Tiredly, she grasped the railing and used it to support herself as she clambered up. Each footfall was more noisy than the last.

Her feet clomped the rest of the way to his door where she paused for a moment and slowly raised her hand, balled into a fist, and rapped at the door. As she waited for some sort of an answer, lingering just in front of his doorway, she could see the thin wisps of her own breath lifting visibly into the air before dissipating. It was a cold night and without a jacket, the skin of her arms had gone numb.

In fact her whole body felt submersed in the frigid air that seemed to caress it, leaving each movement stiff and uncoordinated. But Yomi didn't mind being as frozen as a popsicle; nothing could put a damper on her cheery mood.

Not even the despondent look on Shizuo's face as he cracked the door open. As usual he had a fresh cigarette clenched between his lips as he glared at her. "Why are you coming here this late at night?" His husky voice retained its usual gruffness as he posed the question frankly.

"Why are you awake this late at night, Shi-chan? Were you waiting for me?" she flashed him her pearly whites as she tilted her head. The image she portrayed truly matched that of a high school girl. But its appeal was lost on Shizuo, who seemed to disregard whatever reasons she might have had for wearing such a getup.

"Go home." He moved to shut his door, but she caught it just in time.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?"

His beady brown eyes regarded her obtrusive hand with a look of disgust. Hastily, he peeled her hand off as he responded, "No. Go home. I'm going to bed."

"So cold," she pouted. "Well, that's okay. If you want to shut me out, I can just go around the back and climb in through your window! Although it might reopen my wound... Oh well!" Yomi didn't even take a moment to ponder the consequences before she disregarded them altogether.

Exasperated by her insistence, he released her hand and left the door hanging halfway open, with his broad body placed directly in front of it so as to leave no opening for her to sneakily slip in. "Speak quickly and then go."

"Did you miss me?"

It was an utterly absurd question which elicited only a grunt as Shizuo reached up and scratched at his forehead. "You know Izaya..." Saying the name left an acrid taste in his mouth that the blonde-haired man quickly swallowed as he tried to think of what else he wanted to say. It had been days since he'd last seen Yomi, and in all that time he'd mulled over and repeated the sight of Izaya running off with her in his mind, he suddenly felt blank.

"I know Uzaya-chan," she confirmed. "He's really annoying, isn't he?"

There was more truth to that than she probably knew, but somehow it disconcerted him to hear her calling Izaya so familiarly. "What do you want?" It was a question he sputtered out of suspicion and mistrust. Since Izaya was constantly conniving insidious plans at Shizuo's expense, he could only assume that this was another one them. Perhaps Izaya and Yomi had plotted together. That seemed likely... But the thought of it made him feel even more nauseous.

"I missed you!" Yomi made the declaration unabashedly while making an emphatic motion with both arms to signify just how much she really had missed him. "I would've brought you that disgusting dairy you love, but I'm really tired. Actually my rib has been hurting too. Doctor-chan said I shouldn't move because it's broken but... Oh well!"

"Because Izaya shot you."

She looked at him quizzically. "Huh? Who shot me?" The skin on her forehead crinkled. "I don't know who told you that, Shi-chan, but they must be very mistaken. The person who shot me is the person I love the most - Hiro-chan."

Although it still seemed inappropriate, given the circumstances, Shizuo felt relieved to know it wasn't Izaya who had afflicted such a wound on her. But he nevertheless found himself full of even more questions than he had before. "Hiro Inoue..." That name which he was sure he'd heard before, and yet because he was terrible at remembering names, Shizuo couldn't quite put his finger on the source of familiarity.

"Yeah, that's him. I asked you to find me information about him before." There was a rueful smile on her face as she lowered her gaze to the ground. It was at that same point that Shizuo suddenly became aware of the fact that she'd been holding her side the whole time they'd been talking.

Feeling a sting of guilt in the pit of his stomach, he reluctantly sidestepped, leaving a small space open for Yomi to squeeze in. "It's cold out," he commented, as though the subtlety of it would hint toward her being welcome inside the apartment.

Unsurprisingly, she took it as an open invitation and literally plowed right past him. "It's a good thing you were still awake, Shi-chan. I'm too tired to walk back to my apartment. But maybe then I would've froze to death outside your door?" She seemed amused at the thought as she walked over to his couch and slowly lowered herself onto it.

It was unlike the grandiose furnishings at Izaya's apartment – which seemed to be indulgent. Everything in her immediate proximity was completely to the contrary. There were loose springs protruding from the mismatched cushions on the couch, and several holes where stuffing was popping through, just begging to be pulled out. The makeshift coffee table in front of her was just as similar, held up by cement blocks. Apparently there was a crack in the middle that would have otherwise severed the board that was supposed to the be the tabletop; it was held together by duct tape. It was, however, uncluttered - other than an ash tray full of cigarette butts and a few empty milk bottles.

"Here," Shizuo mumbled sheepishly, his head turned away as he held out a jacket toward her.

It was fleece which made it warm and soft, though it seemed strange that Shizuo had such a thing. He never seemed to wear a jacket, as though he was immune to the cold. Yomi was grateful for the gesture, though, and accepted it. "If you loan nice things like this to me, Shi-chan, I might forget to return them on purpose." Gleefully, she snuggled against it while laying down against the couch, ignoring the metal springs that jabbed into her side and stomach.

With Yomi shamelessly occupying the full length of the couch, Shizuo was left with no place to sit. Not that he complained; he merely plopped down onto the floor while taking a long drag from his cigarette. "Why come here instead of going home?"

"I wanted to see you, of course." She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You should be in the hospital." It was completely hypocritical – not that he was consciously aware of it – for him to say such a thing when he himself, with even fatal wounds that would kill a normal human being, just laggardly climbed the stairs to Shinra's apartment and sought treatment there.

"I hate hospitals." There was a sour look on her face as she buried it into the jacket draped over her arms and chest.

Smoke billowed out through his lips and curled into the air where it slowly disappeared. Each puff he took did wonders to soothe his nerves as thoughts raced through his mind, becoming so jumbled that he couldn't even think coherently. Questions formed at the back of his throat but couldn't even make it far enough to roll off the tip of his tongue. What he wanted to ask, what he wanted to know, and yet at the same time unable to inquire because of his own hesitancy. It was strange to Shizuo, who was normally straightforward, to feel so tentative about speaking his mind.

But fortunately Yomi could understand the pensive look on his face. She peeked out from behind the collar of the jacket. "Shi-chan, what are you thinking about? Are you wanting to ask me something?" Yomi sounded excited.

"Ah..." His voice, filled with uncertainty, trailed off. "I should be getting to bed." Taking one last drag on his cigarette, he blew one finally wisp of smoke past his lips before putting it out on the ash tray. Then he stood straight on his legs and turned awkwardly back to his bedroom.

"That means I can stay the night, right, Shi-chan?"

He froze mid-step and hesitantly glanced back at her, at a loss. Usually he would be adamantly insisting she return to her apartment, but he was so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't thought to push the subject. "Oh, well..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Since you're injured you can stay here for the night."

Before he could turn again to leave, Yomi spoke up quickly. "So, Shi-chan... You really don't want to ask me anything? You're not curious about me?"

Stiffly, he turned his back toward her. "Curious?" The way repeated the word made him sound incredulous. "It's none of my business. You can sleep there until morning but then you should go home."

Whether she was disappointed or not by his answer, he wasn't sure. Shizuo didn't chance a glance back at her, though in his mind he imagined seeing her normal cheery expression as she replied with a simple, "Okay! Goodnight then, Shi-chan."

"Yeah... Goodnight." He moved mechanically back toward his bedroom, feeling a knot twisting in the pit of his stomach. It was a foreign filling that he'd generally only associated with Izaya, but it felt a bit different this time... Like he was nauseous. Maybe it was because he regretted not just spitting out the questions he had. Such as why and how she knew Izaya. He did want to know about her past. He was interested. Shizuo wasn't despondent and inattentive because he didn't want to know... But something held him back from asking. Perhaps it was due to his own hope that she would tell him at will if she wanted him to know. Questions just seemed intrusive.

After all, he'd been reluctant to answer the questions she'd posed to him at first. So perhaps it felt hypocritical to then interrogate her the way she had done to him. Regardless, he felt silly about. What was even sillier was that he let his own worries inhibit him from being his normal blunt, straightforward self.

So in the time he brushed his teeth and then lay down to sleep, he admonished himself inwardly. Sleep proved difficult to obtain as he tossed and turned, thinking about the girl sleeping out on his couch. Then he started second guessing his decision to let her stay the night.

The clock on his wall ticked the time away. Everything was pitch black, the thick curtains on his window shielding the silvery moonlight from entering his room. But just as he was starting to drift off, after what felt like hours, he thought he heard something.

It sounded like Yomi's voice - like she was talking. Who was she talking to? _Izaya._ Though he was sure he'd locked the front door - had that _flea_ somehow sneaked into his apartment? His fingers curled tightly into fists as he bolted out of his bed and tromped to the door, sending it flying open. (Fortunately not hard enough to send it off its hinges, though the door seemed to be only hanging loosely on them anyways.)

He traipsed out to the living room, through the darkness, and flipped on the light, ready to grab the nearest appliance and send flying. But much to his surprise - or perhaps, unsurprisingly - there was no one there.

The only out of place thing in his dilapidated "living room" was the girl sleeping beneath his coat. Her head was poking out, and Shizuo could visibly make out the beads of perspiration trickling down her forehead as she tossed and turned from side to side with a pained look on her face.

"Sorry... Sorry... Sorry..."

She was mumbling apologies? Certain he had to be hearing wrong, Shizuo dug his pinky finger into his ear and twisted it back and forth. When he withdrew it there was no wax, and yet he was positive that she _couldn't_ have been saying sorry... Not in such a sincere, unrecognizable voice.

Tentatively, he edged closer and closer to her. Somehow Shizuo felt like he was the one intruding, although it was his apartment. As he inched closer, he noticed that her cheeks were wet. "She's crying?" he muttered to himself in disbelief. It was almost laughable to think that such a tactless, obtrusive person was showing such a defenseless side. And while it left him feeling a little awkward looming over her as she cried in her sleep, he was glad to see a side of her that was more human.

Her body was quivering beneath the jacket as she continued to whisper in a strangled voice, "I'm sorry... So sorry..." There was movement beneath her eyelids as Yomi remained trapped in whatever nightmare haunted her. Those thin, pale fingers of hers were clutching so tightly to the edge of his jacket that her knuckles had turned an even more translucent shade of white. Her hands were trembling.

Who was she apologizing to, he wondered, and what did she have to apologize for? The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he knew absolutely nothing about her. But it had been his own choice to avoid asking any questions. It left a bitter taste in his mouth as he outstretched his hand. Perhaps a little nervous about touching Yomi - afraid, perhaps, that he might wake her - his hand was shaking as he cupped the side of her face. With his thumb he wiped away the newly forming tears about to trail down the length of her cheek.

The apologies continued to fall past her lips as she whimpered, "Sorry, really sorry..." There was a sense of urgency in her voice that Shizuo didn't recognize. Like a desperation as she sought forgiveness from the ghosts of her past. It clung to her with its claws so deeply entrenched that even Shizuo found his curiosity piqued.

"Why are you sorry?" he wanted to ask, but his lips remained pursed as he continued to stroke her face awkwardly. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, and yet he was the one left feeling uncomfortable.

Then suddenly, from right outside his door, a loud noise...

_**BANG!**_

Yomi's eyes shot open in that split second as a bloodcurdling scream ripped through her throat and deafened him as he reeled away from her. "Nooo! Noooo!" she writhed violently on the couch, thrashing her arms and legs about.

It took a moment for him to scramble up onto his haunches. The blonde-haired man, feeling a bit disoriented at the sudden noise, wondered what it was. He wanted to go investigate, and yet he found himself rooted on the floor beside the couch, just a few inches away from the squirming blue-eyed girl that moments ago had been crying. Now she was letting forth a gut wrenching scream that didn't seem to end.

His hands flew to her shoulders to pin her against the couch - and while it was probably rougher than he intended, it at least stopped her movement. Yomi still seemed to be hyperventilating, evidenced by the quick rise and fall in her chest. Those eyes of hers seemed glassy, and while they stared up into his face, Shizuo had the feeling that she wasn't truly looking at him.

"Hiro... Hiro..." She blinked away the tears as her breathing slowed and her eyes flickered back into life. The daze she had been in subsided and Yomi seemed entirely back to normal as she beamed up at him, as though completely unaware of what had just taken place. "Are you trying to make a move on me, Shi-chan?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, he released her shoulders and placed one hand firmly against the couch as he raised himself back up onto his feet. "Stay here," he commanded as he trudged toward the front door.

Hastily, he unlocked the deadbolt and yanked the door open. As he stepped outside he noticed a distinctly missing railing and several other tenants peering over the side where said railing had apparently fallen. The landlord was already present, bickering with a panic-stricken man who insistently said, "I swear, I didn't do it. I just leaned up against it. That's all, I'm telling you honestly!"

It was well past midnight and early into the morning already. Perhaps the headache that suddenly afflicted Shizuo came from lack of sleep or perhaps something else altogether... Maybe the fact that the broken railing was actually _his_ fault. It brought back of a flood of memories he wasn't all too fond of reminiscing over.

"Oh, it's that railing you broke," Yomi whispered in a hushed voice from behind him. Her body was pressed uncomfortably against his back as she peered around his shoulder with a curious look on her face.

As though the words she spoke acted as some kind of curse, the landlord suddenly turned in their direction. The old man, with barely a few sprigs of graying hair on his head, and a disgruntled look on his wrinkled face, snarled, "Heiwajima! Did you break this?" It wasn't really a question. Whenever _anything_ broke in the apartment complex, it was usually Shizuo's fault.

Before Shizuo could speak up and admit his own guilt, Yomi had managed to wriggle past him and stood defensively in front of him with her arms spread wide. "It's not his fault, Landlord-chan! I can definitely vouch for him. We were sleeping together at the time."

If he didn't already want to crawl in a hole and die, he did now. The intrusive, curious stares that he received from the other bystanders left him feeling mortified and angry. But strangely, Shizuo was growing accustomed to Yomi's antics. With her naivety, it seemed likely that she actually meant the whole "sleeping together" thing innocently. Of course, that isn't how everyone else interpreted it.

While the blonde-haired man tried desperately to cover his face with his own hand, his eyes and forehead pressed against his palm, he could feel everyone's gaze on him. Even as clueless as he was, he knew the situation looked bad. Yomi, dressed in a schoolgirl outfit, made him look like a pervert. If it wasn't bad enough that he already looked like a delinquent...

"With... With a high school girl?" the landlord gasped incredulously.

"Who is a high school girl, Landlord-chan?" Yomi quipped, "I'm twenty-two."

Not that her saying that helped anything. Now, rather than looking like someone who dated younger girls, he just looked like a pervert who had his girlfriend dress up like a younger girl. The situation was worsening.

As Shizuo's hand fell away from his face, he noticed the resentful look he was receiving from the landlord that only further revealed his disdain for Shizuo. "Well," the burly man huffed, "If that's the case then you can go back into your apartment." It was obvious that there was more he wanted to say, sitting right on the tip of his tongue, but even the landlord knew better than to piss Shizuo off by speaking out of line too much.

It was already too late to try to remedy the situation with some kind of explanation. So while Shizuo wanted to try to defend his dignity, he dragged Yomi back inside his apartment and slammed the door shut.

"Your landlord is old and fat," Yomi announced cheerily, as though she _wasn't_ insulting the man.

"And bald," Shizuo agreed as he twisted the knob to the deadbolt, locking it. "Next time, don't say anything. The railing was my fault. There's no need to stand up for me." He spoke dejectedly with a less than happy look on his face.

"I'll say something every time," she said disobediently with a sour look on her face as she stood steadfast right in the middle of his path. "Shi-chan is a really nice person. Even though you get angry sometimes and throw things, it's really cute!" Her lips broke into a large grin. "That's why I like Shi-chan the most!"

Shocked at this sudden declaration, he stood dumbfounded with his mouth ajar as he stared back at her. Those words didn't quite register in his head.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Late update is late. Been busy with school work, will probably manage one more update later this month/next month, then will probably be a while before the next. Swamped with homework. :(


	9. Losing Pieces

**Chapter 09 - Losing Pieces**

"She said she likes me..." He spoke with the same disbelief he'd had when he spoke those very words to himself last night. Yet the movement of his lips didn't seem to dislodge the cigarette protruding from them. It balanced precariously as he took a sharp inhale.

With a chuckle on the other end of the phone, Shinra replied, "She told you that before, remember? That's why you two went on a date. Ah! I wish Celty would go on a date with me..." Though his voice sounded wistful, there was a tinge of mischief that Shizuo failed to recognize. (Which was unfortunate because whenever Shinra was mischievous it generally led to agonizing embarrassment on Shizuo's part... Or a punch from Celty. Sometimes both.) "Actually, I have an idea..."

"An idea?" Shizuo echoed questioningly as he lifted the cigarette from his mouth and turned around slowly. The couch was just a short distance away from him, and although it was mid-morning, Yomi was still sleeping soundly and hadn't stirred since the night before. The expression on her face, peeking out from beneath his jacket, was nothing short of peaceful and content. Staring at her elicited a strange feeling from the pits of his stomach - as though he was nauseous. Maybe Yomi made him physically ill because of all the trouble she brought with her...

"Double date!" Shinra announced excitedly.

Any normal person would've had the common sense to know that a double date with an eccentric doctor and his headless girlfriend would only be trouble. But sadly, Shizuo wasn't a normal person. "Double date? What are you talking about?"

"The four of us on a date together."

He shoved the cigarette back into his mouth and chomped down on it. "She said Izaya didn't shoot her." Slowly he exhaled, and the smoke rose in thin wisps as Shizuo took yet another long drag. "But she still has something to do with him."

"Are you jealous?" the doctor taunted.

Shizuo averted his eyes from Yomi, whose lips had begun to curl up into a smile in her sleep. "Jealous?" He gnashed his teeth against the cigarette. "I hate Izaya." That statement carried more bitterness than mere words could possibly convey.

Shinra sniggered. "Then it is jealousy. You don't want her hanging around him, right?"

While he never quite understood the emotion of jealousy and couldn't quite agree that that's what he felt, Shizuo did know that thinking about Yomi being around the flea seriously pissed him off. His free hand had been clenched in a fist since he'd first spoke the flea's name. "No, I don't.."

That seemed to convince Shinra. "Then it's jealousy," he said, very matter-of-fact.

"I should have warned her about him." Though Yomi claimed that it hadn't been Izaya's fault that she'd been shot, Shizuo was convinced that somehow it probably involved Izaya. After all, the flea was involved in at least ninety-nine percent of the trouble that occurred in Ikebukuro.

"Right! Then you should make it clear that you're dating and you don't want her hanging around him."

Dating? That word - he was sure that he'd heard that word before. Wasn't dating the thing that couples did... together? It was like going out on dates except more official. There was that awkward touching-thing that he saw sometimes while perusing the streets with Tom. Shizuo's jaw dropped and the cigarette tipped over the edge of his lip and plummeted through the air. In the same instance it hit the ground, his foot stopped on it to put it out. "Dating?" he responded incredulously, with a hint of anger to his voice. There was no way he could imagine - that touchy-feely stuff? No, not with Yomi.

"Then the two of you could spend more time together, like a couple!" Judging by the far-off tone of Shinra's voice, he was actually fantasizing about himself and Celty. He didn't even have Shizuo and Yomi on his mind.

"More time together?" Shizuo was trying desperately to grasp at the strings of reality to pull himself back, but he'd already started to imagine it. Being humiliated daily by Yomi, sent into a rage by her insulting words, throwing things at her, missing, and hitting innocent passersby. What part of any of that was appealing? It was horrible. He suddenly wanted to throw his phone. (But it was already hanging loosely on the wall through use of duct tape and superglue that he didn't really want to have to fix it... again.)

"Isn't that what you want?" Shinra prompted.

"No," the blonde-haired man responded firmly as he rubbed at his throbbing temples.

In the background Shizuo heard an audible groan from the couch where Yomi was groggily turning in her sleep. Her eyelids fluttered open, those luminous blue eyes peering over at him tiredly as a sly smile surfaced on her lips. "Ah, bye," he said suddenly to Shinra as he gently placed the phone back on the hook.

"Morning, Shi-chan," Yomi called out to him from her odd position, sprawled lopsidedly across the length of his couch. There were dark circles beneath her eyes that suggested that, despite sleeping in longer than he had, she hadn't been getting much rest lately.

Which piqued his curiosity, since he hadn't mentioned it the night before. "Last night, what were you dreaming about?" He slipped his hand into his breast pocket and pulled out a half-empty carton of cigarettes, plucking one out and pushing it between his lips.

"Did I dream?" She furrowed her brows thoughtfully. "I don't think I had any dreams about anything, Shi-chan." Then a look of realization lit up her face as she gasped. "You were watching me sleep! I knew Shi-chan had to like me too." This prompted a contented grin up onto her pale pink lips.

Disinclined to argue with her poor deduction skills, Shizuo fished his lighter from his pant pocket and began taking another drag from his newly-lit cigarette. "Don't remember, huh?" He grunted. "You kept saying sorry."

Yomi stiffly sat up, a pained look on her face as she wrapped one arm around her upper abdomen. "That makes sense, since I have someone I really owe an apology to, Shi-chan. Maybe this pain is punishment?"

"Punishment for what?"

Slightly taken aback that he'd actually taken interest enough to ask a question, Yomi smiled back at him delightedly. "You really want to know? Well, I guess it's because I haven't finished what I came here to do."

"What do you mean by 'here'?"

Using her index finger, she pointed toward the ground. "Here, in Ikebukuro. I didn't just come here to play, you know. I came here to do something really, really important."

Though he had suspected she had a specific purpose for coming to Ikebukuro and hadn't moved for a more "normal" reason, (because after all, very little about Yomi was actually normal) Shizuo was still a bit surprised by the way she explained it. This time he allowed his curiosity, or perhaps concern, to press her further. "What happens once you finish?"

"I'll die."

His heart felt like it had dropped down into the pit of his stomach as he tried furiously to swallow the lump that had formed in the back of his throat. Such a feeling was foreign to him, but he still understood it. "Why will you die?" Shizuo's nonchalance belied his true feelings as he posed the question.

The black-haired girl, whose pig-tails had nearly fallen out of the bands that had been tying them up, tilted her head the side with a somber look on her face. "Why not? After I'm done with what I want to do, I don't mind dying, Shi-chan. I promise Uzaya-chan I would die when he told me to die. As long as I'm finished with my goal." She smiled proudly at him.

In a split second Shizuo ripped the cigarette from his mouth, snapped in two, threw it to the ground, and stomped on it. Then he turned to his phone, ripped it out the wall and severed all the cords connected to it as he sent it flying to the other side of the wall.

Yomi watched with a look of amazement on her face, her lips set in a narrow o-shape.

The anger still hadn't subsided even with that act. Everything seemed a depressing shade of red in Shizuo's vision as he desperately turned to find something else to grab - something else to throw. The rage he'd flown into, induced by the thought of Izaya, kept him from even noticing the sound of Yomi's footsteps as she drifted toward him. Before he could lunge at his dining table, she had already latched herself onto him. He was keenly aware of her thin arms wrapped around his waist as she pressed herself against him.

"It always calms Shi-chan down when I hug him, right?" She peeked up at him with a smile on her face. "Hiro-chan always hugged me when I was unhappy too. It makes you feel better, right? More than milk and cigarettes!"

Just as always, when she embraced him, he felt the every ounce of emotion drain away. It was replaced with a feeling of despair that he remembered only from his childhood, a helplessness that he hadn't experienced since. "You should... Stay away from Izaya," he mumbled.

"If Shi-chan is saying that, then he must really like me." The smile slowly faded away from her face as she leaned her ear against his chest. "Have you ever listened really closely to the sound of a heartbeat? Yours is really, really, really strong and loud! Thump, thump, thump."

"Not really," he admitted, feeling a little awkward since she was still holding so tightly onto him. The close proximity was not something Shizuo was accustomed to, nor comfortable with.

"Then try mine." Yomi promptly yanked his hand and pressed it, palm outward, against her chest. His hand was already large, and it fit awkwardly across her small breasts. The blonde-haired man's cheeks flushed, and while he understood her intentions were innocent, his face nevertheless lit up like a Christmas tree. "Can you feel it?"

"A-ahh..." He croaked out awkwardly. Now he felt _really_ uncomfortable.

"It's better if you can hear it," she insisted suddenly as she released him. Yomi leaned up on her tiptoes, and before he could sputter out a single word of protest, she looped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down against her chest. He stumbled slightly in surprise as his cheek bumped against her breasts.

Too close, too close, too close. He moved to wrench himself away but stopped suddenly as he heard it... Faintly, beneath the layered uniform she was wearing. _Thump... Thump... Thump..._ It was gentle and soft, like a lullaby. A strangely calming sound that coaxed him into relaxing as he listened to it. Suddenly Shizuo didn't feel so self conscious.

"Do you know how it feels when that gentle murmur – the one thing that tells you someone is alive and beside you – vanishes? The relief when you hear it, then the panic when it starts to fade out. Thump, thump, thump... Quieter and quieter until you can't hear it anymore. It rings so hollowly in your ears until it disappears. The moment it's gone you feel like you have a lump in the back of your throat. You can't speak, you can't hear. It's like your lungs forget how to breathe, your mind forgets how to think, and your eyes forget how to cry." Slowly she stepped back and her arms fell away from him and returned to her sides. Yomi was still wearing her usual smile but there was something in her eyes, a recognizable emotion that could be nothing short of a sadness that she had never before revealed to him. "That's what it feels like to hear a heartbeat disappear."

Tentatively, Shizuo reached out a hand and ruffled the already disheveled hair on the top of her head. "You don't have to die."

It was awkward, it wasn't eloquent, and he certainly was no good at comforting people... But the fact that he tried brought a genuine smile to Yomi's face, albeit so small that it barely seemed as though her lips had curled up at all. "I told you that Shi-chan is really kind. That's why I like him the most." Gently, she reached up and grasped his wrist, lowering his hand down to her face. Yomi pressed his calloused palm against the side of her cheek. "You really wanted to put your hand here, didn't you, Shi-chan? I know you did it last night." Acting as cunning as a fox, with only the common sense of a toddler, she smirked slyly at him.

He reeled back. "You were awake?" Mortified, he stared at her with a slight look of horror on his face.

Sliding her tongue out, she licked at her chapped lips and vaguely said, "Something like that." But she changed the subject quickly. "Hey, Shi-chan, do you have to work this morning? I'm really hungry, don't you want to take me out? I'll buy you milk again!"

"Ah, yeah... I have to leave in a few minutes." He turned away from her and knelt down to pick up the two cigarettes he'd discarded on the floor, mourning silently at the burn marks on his carpet. (Not that they were the first, nor would they be the last...)

"Oh?" she frowned in disappointment. "How boring... But I guess it's okay since I need to go home. There's always so much to do and so little time. Don't worry, though, Shi-chan. I'll be back at your place sometime soon." Yomi pointed at him offhandedly and gave him a wink.

As Shizuo stood up, the cigarettes cradled in the palm of his hand, he looked at Yomi uneasily. He still wasn't sure whether or not she was a welcome presence in his apartment. After all, she'd been the one to make him look bad in front of his neighbors. (Which he didn't need any help with; he did just fine on his own. They already thought he was a delinquent. Now they thought he was a delinquent _and_ a pervert. He supposed that wasn't much of a difference, though.)

Maybe she wasn't entirely unwelcome after all. In fact, maybe he was a little less lonely when she was there. But just as soon as he began to think such uplifting thoughts, Yomi had to crush any good opinion he'd made of her by saying, "Try not to send too many people to the hospital today, Shi-chan. Bye bye~"

In the time he'd spent thinking silently to himself, Yomi had already skipped out the door and slammed it behind her. Suddenly his fist clenched and crushed the cigarettes he'd been holding. But at least he didn't break any of his other furniture. At the very mention he found himself glancing wistfully at his phone, nearly shattered as it lay on the floor. Then he peered over at the wall where it had been. Dried superglue remained in several coats against the floral wallpaper. A few broken wires were protruding from the spot where his phone had originally been.

He heaved a sigh. It was time to get the electrical tape and superglue again. Shizuo was beginning to see a pattern in his life with Yomi showing up unexpectedly, things breaking, and her leaving him to fix them. His apartment seemed to be slowly falling apart with each visit she made.

Meanwhile, clueless to the plight of the man whose apartment she'd just left, Yomi ambled down the street at a leisurely pace. There was a throbbing pain on her side that was only slightly more annoying than a bee sting. (Alright, it could only be compared if said bee were the size of a human that had a stinger in the shape of a butcher's knife and had slashed her open and gutted her lungs repeatedly.) The constant ache every time she tried to breathe left her panting and at the same time groaning at the excruciating pain she felt. It hadn't been so noticeable when she'd been devouring pain pills like candy.

It was difficult to hide the pain behind a mask, to keep people from finding out. But now that she was stumbling down the sidewalk, amongst the gray-shaded people whose purpose in the larger scheme of things was unimportant, Yomi let down her facade. She was gasping from the pain as she held her side, glancing wearily behind her to make sure that Shizuo hadn't somehow followed after her.

There was a ghost of a smile on her lips as she slowly, at the pace of a snail, made her way back toward her apartment. Her expression remained contorted in pain the whole way as she hissed out obscenities beneath her breath. That look on her face quickly changed when she at last arrived at her apartment complex. A recognizable figure stood in front of her door, waiting. Yomi's eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Anri-chan?" The blue-eyed girl craned her head to the side and quickly dropped her hand from the site of her wound. Apparently she didn't want to draw unnecessary attention to it. "Did you forget it's a school day today?" It sounded less like a question and more like a sarcastic remark.

Startled out of whatever trance she seemed to be in, Anri jerked her head upright. "Y-Yomi-san," she stuttered out uneasily with a nod of acknowledgment. She wasn't sporting a smile and in fact looked unusually grim. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

As finally Yomi closed in the distance between the two of them, she stopped just in front of her door and leaned against it for support, resting her hand on the door knob. "Ohh, sounds so important," she cooed. "Maybe we should go inside. Don't you know that even the walls have ears?"

Anri dipped her chin slightly and waited for Yomi to fish out the key from her coat pocket. Once the door was opened, Yomi quickly ushered the young school girl inside. There was no polite offer of tea, which Yomi apparently disliked anyway, both seemed to understand that there wasn't a need for it. The subject which Anri had brought to discuss was far too urgent for either of them to care about unimportant gestures.

As Anri trailed down the hall and lead the way toward Yomi's dwarf-sized table, and took a seat on the uncomfortable cushion beside it, Yomi wandered off in another direction. "Wait there just a moment, Anri-chan," she instructed as she disappeared around the corner and into another room. The eerily upbeat woman emerged just moments later with a pill bottle in hand and happily plopped down against the unoccupied seat beside Anri.

The silence in the air was filled with the sound of Yomi pouring pills into her open palm. There seemed to be eight, at least that Anri could count, that Yomi then promptly swallowed without the help of any water. She didn't even seem to struggle swallowing it.

"I actually waited here yesterday for several hours but didn't see you..."

Yomi's piercing blue eyes turned their focus to Anri. "Is that so?" she asked with a curious head tilt. "I've been busy for the past couple of days. Sorry about that, Anri-chan~ My investigating was pretty unsuccessful. Did you have some luck?"

"I asked someone, a friend..." the girl hesitated to explain, "I asked him to find out some information about Inoue-san."

This of course piqued Yomi's interest and she leaned closer to Anri, perhaps a bit too close. The space between the two of them was now marginal at best. "What did your friend find out?" Yomi pressed anxiously, showing every bit of impatience in her inquiry.

"My friend, after he found out the information, he was... Hospitalized."

The way Anri seemed to shift in her seat while looking downcast gave the impression that she was particularly upset about this development. Yomi, on the other hand, didn't seem the least bit fazed. Rather, she seemed almost disappointed. "Then you weren't able to get any information after all..."

"No," Anri cut in quickly, "I was able to talk to him briefly once he regained consciousness." Then she paused to glance down at the hands in her lap, which curled into fight fists as she spoke once more. "Inoue-san was involved with the yakuza. From what my... friend... said, it seems like he was in a clan associated with a much larger group that just began operations recently in Tokyo. He couldn't get many details, but... It seems like it was arms trafficking."

To any ordinary person the information might have come as a shock. The illegal weapon trade was dangerous, albeit perhaps not as morally unacceptable as human trafficking. At the very least Anri's words would have elicited some sort of surprise or disgust from a normal person. Unfortunately, with her eccentricities, Yomi never seemed to react predictably. In fact, she was smiling gleefully. "Is that it?" she asked with a cheerful tone to her voice. "That sounds like my Hiro-chan for sure."

Unsettled by how easily Yomi seemed to accept this, unquestioningly as though she had expected it, Anri sunk back. "Th-then... You had suspicions about this?"

Yomi tilted her body backward and slowly settled her back against the floor. Her hair splayed out against the wooden boards beneath her as she closed her eyes. "I don't know if I would call it suspicions, but Hiro-chan is the one who taught me how to shoot a gun." She lifted her arm, as though reaching toward the ceiling, but all she could grasp at was the air. Her fingers curled into a loose fist. "What Hiro-chan did isn't really important. I just need to know who killed him. Do you know what clan?"

Anri's shoulders slouched as she shook her head, though from Yomi's position on the floor, she probably couldn't see it. "Information about him is really scarce. I really don't think I can help you out anymore, Yomi-san. If more people get hurt..." Her eyes narrowed as she stared down at her fists. The whole situation seemed more than she was equipped to handle. Anri was especially worried about Mikado and Kida, who had also gotten involved.

"That's exactly why you can't give up now, Anri-chan!" As if to emphasize this point, Yomi slammed her fist down sideways against the floor. The sound made Anri jolt in surprise. "Honestly, even if you back out now, you should know what lengths yakuza go to. If they killed my Hiro-chan, and we don't even know why yet, why wouldn't they kill you for snooping?"

Suddenly, Anri understood, and her face went pale. "You mean... You planned this? From the beginning... You knew the kind of organization Inoue-san was involved in... You knew it would turn out like this. So you lured us into helping you and trapped us from being able to get out of it?"

Groaning as she forced herself upright once more, Yomi clenched her jaw as she struggled to breathe properly, gingerly rubbing her side, just beneath her breast. "The painkillers still haven't kicked in, eh?" she mumbled quietly to herself before peering up at Anri. Suddenly she flashed her trademark smile, which was almost sickening. "Sorry, Anri-chan, don't you know that every chess board has its pawns?"

This revelation wasn't sudden; Anri had silently suspected that Yomi's aim was to use her and her friends in order to gain information. For that she felt deeply disheartened, but at the same time she regained her composure quickly. "I will be your pawn, but tell Ryuugamine-kun and Kida-kun that you've given up on finding out information. Then leave this apartment."

"Or else what?" Yomi lifted her brows questioningly. "Are you making a threat?"

In a flash of silver light Anri had pulled a katana seemingly out of nowhere and aimed the blade straight at the other woman's throat. The expression on her face was nothing short of serious. She seemed to no longer hold any sympathy for Yomi, though there was a sense of hesitancy in the way she held her sword.

Eyeing the weapon with a look of awe, Yomi gave a slight nod of appreciation. "Better than I expected, Anri-chan. You will make a really good pawn, but there is just one problem. This is Hiro-chan's apartment. I can't leave." She pinched the blade between two fingers and tried to move it away from her throat, but Anri jerked it from her grasp.

"Is this apartment more important than your revenge?" she challenged, having figured out Yomi's aim.

"You catch on really quick, Anri-chan. I wouldn't have guessed it when we first met and you were meek as a mouse. It's really kind of annoying, though. I dislike types like you." For once, Yomi gave a deep frown, though it seemed just as fake as those blissful smiles she always wore. Every expression seemed little more than a lie. "But fortunately for you, you're really pretty perceptive. Revenge is more important than anything to me. I don't care who dies in the process or if there's a pile of innocent bodies in the end. The only thing that matters is killing the people who took Hiro-chan from me."

Then the blue-eyed girl's face turned deadpan. "You couldn't even feel the same way about your friends as how I feel about Hiro-chan. Saying he was my everything would belittle what his existence was to me. There isn't a person I wouldn't kill if it was for him – that's how much I love him."

Those words, perhaps the first honest ones that Yomi had spoken, were bone chilling. There was something about her eyes, how they seemed so penetrating as though they were peering right through Anri and into her soul. The young schoolgirl was forced to avert her gaze. Strangely overpowering, like the feelings Yomi spoke of, emanated a power that silently influenced Anri to lower her blade. Yet she remained steadfast in her demands. "Then you can sacrifice this apartment and tell them you give up."

"Of course I can~" Yomi chimed in a gleeful voice followed shortly by a sound reminiscent of childish laughter. "I'll hold you to your words, though, Anri-chan. Don't forget that you have to be my loyal pawn."

After stowing her katana away, Anri gave a polite bow. "I should be leaving now." Most likely to go to school before afternoon classes started. Either way, she had reverted to her usual timid demeanor with an uneasy expression on her face. "Please contact Kida-kun and Ryuugamine-kun in the next few days-"

"No need," Yomi interrupted. "I'll tell Mikado-chan when he comes home from school today and he can tell Kida-kun himself. So just give me your contact information and I'll stay in touch." She extended her hand, palm open, expectantly.

"A-ah, but I don't have any paper with me... Do you have a cellphone?"

She sighed out, "No, I don't have one of those annoying electronic devices. They are noisy and cost too much money." Then suddenly Yomi's face lit up and pointed her index finger toward Anri. "Ah! That's right, Sunshine Sixty."

Blinking slowly from behind her glasses, Anri gave Yomi a look of slight confusion. "Sunshine Sixty?" she repeated questioningly.

"The building," the older woman explained, "We can meet in front of Sunshine Sixty. In four days from now when the sun begins to set. By that time I want you to find out the name of the clan, who's pulling the strings and where I can find them."

Considering that four days is about what it had taken to find out what little she had already found out, it seemed a little outrageous to have only four more to find out such in-depth information. Yet, somehow, Anri didn't seem dissuade by such demands. Instead she gave a firm nod of agreement, "Alright."

—

"You didn't bring that annoying girl back with you."

Izaya twirled in his chair one time, briefly glancing out at the city before slowly himself to a stop in front of his desk. He peered over at Namie, who was too consumed in her paperwork to even look at him as she made the remark. A catlike grin surfaced on his face. "Are you talking about Yomi-chan?" he drawled knowingly. "Can it be that Namie-san actually took a liking to our stray cat?"

"If anyone is a stray cat it's you," she quipped. "I want my uniform back."

"Ah, then maybe Yomi-chan was right... Maybe you do like dressing up as a schoolgirl-" he was interrupted as he had to suddenly jolt to the side to avoid and incoming stapler, which he then had to catch with his hand. If he hadn't, it would have shattered through the large glass pane behind him. "So dangerous, you could have injured someone."

If looks could kill, Izaya would have dropped dead considering how Namie was glaring daggers at him from her seat on the couch. She sneered at him before turning back to her laptop. "Get it back from her."

"No need for that. Yomi-chan will be coming back soon." He clicked his tongue. "You'll have your uniform back before you leave tonight."

As the ever-cynical secretary, Namie gave him a suspicious look. "You are meddling in other peoples affairs again." Which actually meant, _"You should stay out of Ikebukuro."_ There were more than a few people who would _not_ want him causing a stir there. Yet he seemed so inclined to disregard the warnings of several dangerous people he had already pissed off. (Among them Shizuo, but that was a given. Making Simon an enemy as well was inadvisable.)

Regardless of other peoples feelings or how much it might seem like playing with fire, Izaya had plans of his own that superseded even his own well-being. (Which, unfortunately for Celty, said plans centered primarily around her head.) Stirring up Ikebukuro, which was like a pot of stew in which he had already thrown in the perfect ingredients, was exactly what Izaya intended to do. Since his last attempt had been little more than a flop, this one was much more perfectly orchestrated with a bonus of being far more interesting and dangerous. Danger was like a spice in cooking that one simply could not do without. It made it worth savoring the flavor.

Namie unceremoniously slammed a large stack of papers on his desk, thereby interrupting his thoughts. "Someday something won't go according to how you have planned it. It will be really unlucky for you."

"But extremely lucky for you?" he shot back with a sly grin. "You almost sound excited to see me gone, Namie-san. I love humans, but they can be so predictable. If something doesn't go the way I assume it will, then I should _be_ the lucky one. As long as I'm right there to see it firsthand..." Izaya leaned forward in his seat, close enough that when he spoke his breathe poured across Namie's face and forced her to close her eyes. "That will be the most valuable piece that I could acquire... Ne?"

"You and your games," the dark-haired woman scoffed back as she reeled away and traipsed back toward the couch. She walked briskly and seemed content to put ample space between them. Perhaps the momentary close proximity had unsettled her. It amused Izaya to see her squirm a little.

"Ah, look at the time. Aren't you in luck? Your precious uniform will be here in..." Suddenly he held up three fingers and lowered each one by one as he counted down, "Three... Two... One."

There was utter silence in the end and after several moments of absolutely nothing happening, Namie glared over him with a slightly triumphant look on her annoyed face. "You were saying?" she mumbled dully. "Looks like I was right-"

_**Knock, knock.**_

A grin spread across his lips. Although it had been a second late, it was there just as expected. "No patience at all, Namie-san. Hasn't anyone ever told you that's uncute?"

She leered back at him. "Just get the door."

As he sniggered beneath his breath, he lazily lifted himself out of the chair and slid languidly across the floor and over to the entrance. With one hand tucked into his front pocket, he used the other to gingerly grasp the handle and creak the door open, just enough so that he could poke his head out. "Yeees~?"

Yomi blinked at him with an interested look on her face, apparently mystified at his all-too-happy expression. She hadn't expected him to find any joy at seeing her on his doorstep with luggage in hand. "Did you expect me, Uzaya-chan? Maybe... You are secretly in love with me and organized it so I would get kicked out of my home and knew this is the first place I would come, and then at night you'll sneak into my room and-"

_**Slam!**_

Craning her neck, Namie glanced over the back of the couch toward the entrance where Izaya had abruptly slammed the door shut. She furrowed her brows. "It wasn't Yomi after all?" she asked, all too hopeful.

"No," he mumbled in a resigned voice, "It was definitely Yomi-chan."

_**Bang, bang!**_

She was pounding her fist against the door again. "Uzaya-chan, did I hurt your feelings because I called you out on it? I don't mind if you're a pervert, I just need a place to staaay~" Her voice was muffled by the thick door that separated the two of them.

In the brief twenty-four hours that they had been separated, Izaya had nearly forgotten just how annoying she was. Ironic when that was the nickname she had given him. She was once again jumping to absurd conclusions that left even him at a disadvantage. Perhaps superior intellect didn't matter when you were dealing with someone who lacked all common sense. Somewhat reluctantly, he pried the door open again.

Yomi, who had her fist raised and just inches from Izaya's face, paused in her attempt to knock on the door. She smiled at him as she lowered her hand back to her side, grasping hold of the handle of the overstuffed suitcase at her side. "Since you opened the door that must mean I'm welcome, right?"

"Ho~ so you don't even have manners when you are about to ask someone for a favor?" He tilted his head with a curious eyebrow raise. Everything about his tone was mocking, whether Yomi caught onto it or not. As Namie well knew, Izaya had already foreseen this event, and while he hadn't expected Yomi's wild assumptions _again_, he was aware before Yomi even admitted it that she would probably leave her apartment to seek refuge at his office. Humans were always predictable. Even if she was more interesting than most, she too had a patterned way of thinking and behaving.

The only thing particularly erratic about Yomi was her fashion sense (or lack thereof). The style of her clothing was always unflattering and the colors always clashed. At the thought, his eyes scrutinized her current attire; the same oversized, stained baggy blue jacket and purple scarf with a plain green t-shirt and jeans that were faded out and torn. Then her shoes which had red laces. Was she trying to look like a rainbow?

"What is the point in being polite if you already know what I'm going to ask?"

When she spoke she interrupted his thoughts and once again as Izaya looked up, he found himself face to face with her pearly white smile. "According to you there isn't any point in it," he surmised, "But you already owe me one favor for collecting that information for you, Yomi-chan. Why should provide you a place to stay now?"

As though she had not yet thought of this, Yomi frowned and stopped to think. Her eyes crinkled shut as she hummed, "Mmmm," to herself. It took several moments of this, her head tilting from side to side, until at last her eyelids flashed open once more. "Oh!" she exclaimed as though she _actually_ figured out a good reason. (Izaya suspected otherwise...) "You should provide me a place to stay because that gives you a front row seat to the best show."

"Sounds like an empty promise," he said dismissively, "Not interested."

That trademark line of his that always seemed to annoy her. Yet this time Yomi didn't show any reaction. She was still smiling blithely at him. "The date is set. So although the opening show might have made you yawn a little, you just have to be a bit patient, Uzaya-chan. The main event is coming up in just a few days..." Suddenly her lips dropped into a thin line as she mumbled, "Then I can paint Hiro-chan's tombstone red with the blood of his killers."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Far later than I expected it to be - a month, no less - although this will probably be the amount of time in between updates from now on. If not longer. But I hope you guys enjoyed. :) Thanks for the reviews last chapter!


	10. Black and White

**Chapter 10 – Black and White**

It was a cold morning, the first day of December. The ground had frosted over and the air was both cool and crisp. She huddled beneath a heavy jacket as she trudged down the sidewalk with her gloved hand clutching the handle of a briefcase tightly. The moment Namie exhaled she could see her breath visibly, rising into the air like smoke. Already nine o'clock and it was still so frigid that her entire body felt numb.

She had considered taking the day off... (Which meant calling Izaya and informing him that, so long as that annoyed blue-eyed brat was staying in his office, Namie wasn't interested in doing work there.) But from the moment she'd woken up, to the moment she'd taken her shower, apparently she was too preoccupied with her routine and thoughts of her brother's well-being and happiness to consider her own. That's how she usually was, though.

But when she arrived at the office and noticed a yellow note tacked to the front door, Namie felt a bit apprehensive. She was, admittedly, a bit annoyed at the lame way Izaya had chosen to convey a message to her. "Obviously went out to cause more trouble," she mumbled to herself as she ripped the piece of paper off the door and casually scanned over it.

_Namie-chan~_

_ I'm borrowing your uniform again because the troll wanted me to go out with him this morning. He is acting kind of suspicious! Have fun with your paperwork~_

_ -Yomi_

There was also a particularly crude drawing that resembled a blob more than the happy face with what Namie assumed was supposed to be a peace sign. She crumpled the note in her hand and threw it over her shoulder. Such gestures were little more than annoying, but at the very least she wouldn't have to go through the headache of dealing with Yomi lounging around the office all day.

Though Namie wasn't sure what to think about Yomi wearing her old school uniform all around Shinjuku. She breathed a sigh. At least it might embarrass Izaya. If it managed to do that, then perhaps Namie had achieved revenge in some small way.

Meanwhile, instead of being embarrassed as his secretary had hoped, Izaya was silently amused as he lingered just a few feet behind Yomi. They had been meandering through the streets and had encountered many apprehensive and questioning glances. (Including probing stares from perverts that Yomi felt obliged to point out, thereby humiliating the sick old men whose eyes had been previously glued to her.)

This time they were trolling the streets in every sense of the word. Yet there was a purpose behind all of the chaos, whether Yomi had quite realized it or not. She seemed to think it was a date, as she had so eloquently pointed out to him. (Eloquent? More like crude.)

"Yomi-chan, I hope you brought your wallet~"

She paused, mid-skip, to turn around and face him. The skirt around her waist seemed to bounce with the movement. "My wallet?" the eccentric girl questioned with a lopsided smile. "Are you trying to get me to buy you a new coat?"

"Ohh~ how perceptive," he responded with sarcasm that Yomi didn't even seem to notice. "You didn't think I had any interest in wandering the streets with some like you as company, did you?" As usual he was mocking her.

"You really don't know how to go on a proper date, Uzaya-chan," she lectured back, wagging her finger at him in disapproval. "Someone like you is so hopeless. Don't you know that's why Namie-chan won't date you?"

"Those two things have noooothing to do with each other." Stepping forward, he reached out his hand and flicked her on the forehead.

Glaring back at him as she furiously rubbed at the newly forming bump on her forehead, Yomi responded, "That's not true. You probably just think something like 'dating doesn't sound interesting so I won't do it.' Such a boooring way of thinking."

He smirked at her observation. Although it was true that she lacked any form of common sense, Yomi at the very least was intuitive enough to understand him to some degree. Perhaps that was why he could tolerate her despite the annoying conclusions she often came to. But likewise, he had come to understand her way of thinking more than she knew. "How about you, Yomi-chan?"

"What about me?"

For whatever reason, he didn't answer her and just briskly walked past with his hands shoved into his pockets. Yomi, curious as to why he seemed content on ignoring her, followed after him quickly. Her hair, which she'd tied up in pigtails once more, bounced with every step. At the same time she could feel the utterly painful ache in her side that kept her breathing shallow. Silently she wondered if, perhaps, Izaya had noticed this small detail.

"Aha," he whispered in a quiet voice as he stopped suddenly, causing Yomi to crash right into his side. Though Izaya obviously felt the impact, he gave no indication that it had bothered him in the least. Instead, he pointed his finger across the street and told Yomi, "Look there." There was a tinge of mischievousness mixed with amusement in his voice.

Curious as to what it was that had so suddenly grabbed his attention, she peered over at the place he was motioning toward. Mixed along the bustling traffic of people still scrambling to work or whatever other various places their lives often led them, was a couple with hands linked together, walking and smiling. Nothing particularly uncommon. She blinked slowly as she tried to understand why it was they were observing something so... Normal.

Before she could jump to wild conclusions, Izaya cut in, "Humans are so interesting. Do you know why they partake in dating, Yomi-chan?" Not that he was about to give her a chance to answer; whatever she said would surely be some ludicrous and incorrect conclusion that he could give no credit to. So instead, Izaya told her his theory, "In this world the past is the only thing real, only thing tangible. People preserve their existence through memories, thereby making relationships in order to do so along the way. Humans don't want to feel forgotten. Memories have power."

"Are you sure they don't want to just-" She was definitely about to say something inappropriate.

Izaya chuckled, "What do you think is stronger, Yomi-chan, love or hate?"

It seemed like a trick question but Yomi, of course, didn't notice. "Love is," she responded easily, "My love for Hiro-chan surpasses everything!" To emphasize the extent of her emotional attachment toward Hiro, she waved her arms out wide.

A smirk slowly made its way onto Izaya's lips as he tilted his head back. "Oh really?" he challenged mockingly. "Are you sure about that? Haven't you given up everything in life, driven by hatred, to seek revenge?"

"It started as love," she tried to argue.

He quirked a brow back at her. "Hate always stems from love." Then Izaya turned his gaze back toward the couple that had been stopped just shortly down the street at a crosswalk, where the light had turned red. "If he sleeps with another woman and she feels betrayed, then hate will overpower the love she had for him. It's more impressionable. Humans _love _to hate... Because they know they will remember it longer."

Although she remained particularly stubborn in her insistence that love was stronger, Yomi silently found herself willing to believe what Izaya was saying. Perhaps it was true. She knew it firsthand. Hatred had ruled her life and had a far more powerful hold than love ever had, even if she wouldn't admit it. (And she wouldn't; Hiro, who was her everything, was the only thing Yomi was willing to believe in.)

"Can you say that for sure?" she asked suddenly, still somewhat entangled in her thoughts. Yomi had abruptly turned serious, the look on her face genuinely inquisitive. "Have you never loved someone, Uzaya-chan?"

"Of course, I _love_ humans."

"And hate?"

"You seem to be _so_ curious about me, Yomi-chan, asking all these questions."

Her head tilted to the side, pigtails swaying with the motion. "Of course I want to know, U-za-ya-chan. If you think that hate is more powerful then doesn't that mean that whoever you hate has the most power over you?"

"Oho~ so Yomi-chan can come up with something witty now and then." The conversation ended there. For reasons unknown, Izaya did not care to disclose whether or not he bore any grudge. So instead they walked along.

And Yomi, who was not content to the silence that had fallen between them, was quick to speak up as soon as something popped into her head. "Uzaya-chan, where is this store of yours? It is beginning to seem suspicious that we have been walking this whole time." She was definitely about to jump to another one of her wild conclusions. "Maybe your real aim is to-"

"Yomi-chan, what would you say if I asked you if you were really Hiro-chan's sister?" The question was abrupt – seemingly out of nowhere. The troll – as she had deemed him – stopped suddenly. His hands were sheathed in his pockets, shoulders slumped. And there was a particularly mischievous grin on his face as he tilted his head at her. "Hmm?" He was prompting her to answer.

"Are you writing some kind of novel?" she asked eagerly, seeming excited rather than put off by his inquisition. "Ah! Hiro-chan and I could be star-crossed lovers and-"

"That would be considered incest," he reminded her with an impatient sigh, eyes narrowed. Even Izaya, apparently, could become annoyed by Yomi's unwavering denial. She cracked a smile every time he spoke. But to Izaya, it looked more like a mask. "Ah, here's an idea Yomi-chan. Have you heard the saying, 'A tit for a tat'?"

"Is that like tic tac toe?"

Honestly speaking, he should have known better to ask in the first place. But instead of explaining, because it would be too lengthy, Izaya suddenly whipped his hand out of his pocket. In the same blink of an eye that he managed to place the blade of his knife against her neck, he felt something bump against his chest. A slight glance down told him that it was the barrel of the gun that she had been hiding in that jacket of hers. Always on guard. He smirked. "If I cut your neck.."

"I will shoot you straight through your heart." She smiled as she said it.

"And that," he told her, as he lowered the knife away and stuffed it back into the depths of his pocket, "Is a tit for a tat."

"No," Yomi corrected quizzically, "That's called homicide. Sometimes I don't know if you have any common sense, Uzaya-chan."

It was definitely pointless. But, wearing his ever-unsettling smile, Izaya turned to continue walking. As expected, Yomi followed after him, struggling to keep up with his brisk pace. It turned into a sort of game, as he moved faster until she had to start jogging, then slowed as soon as she caught up so the two matched at a sluggish gait. Then finally he said, "A question for a question."

"You're just trying to leech more information from me, Uzaya-chan," said Yomi knowingly. "Since the show is coming to a close soon, I guess that is okay. As long as you ask questions that I want to answer."

"Ah-ah. You owe me a favor. Remember the men who knew Hiro-chan?"

Albeit vaguely, she did recall something along those lines... A frown befell her face as they turned the corner, still ambling down the sidewalk leisurely. "I guess that information could still be helpful. But I already have a bishop moving in to wipe out the other side's defenses." She seemed to sway between curiosity and an unwillingness to divulge more information. At last, because Yomi was the type of person whose curiosity was never satiated – and she had an endless appetite for simply "knowing" things – she relented. "Okay, I'll answer another question."

"How did Kaiya-chan die?" The gleam in his eyes, a probing curiosity that left an unpleasant taste in Yomi's mouth as she regarded him with some measure of suspicion, left the blue-eyed woman with the impression that he knew before asking. It always seemed that Izaya's questions had some hidden meaning beyond the basic preface he supplied.

Rather than answering instantly, she seemed to take a moment to ponder over the answer. "How she died," Yomi echoed thoughtfully. "The way that twins are connected, they cannot exist without the other. I think it's like that. So if one dies, the other can't be left alive, can they? So she had to die because she couldn't live without Hiro and Hiro couldn't die without her."

To anyone else it may have been a misleading answer that seemed drenched more in philosophy than reality. Nonetheless, Izaya seemed to understand the meaning beneath Yomi's words. "You are making it more complicated than it needs to be. Why not just say honestly that a part of you died when he did, hm, Kaiya-chan?"

Being called by that name seemed to elicit a frown on her face. Yomi suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Passersby maneuvered around her and Izaya paused just up ahead to peer over his shoulder. He was grinning, perhaps pleased that his words seemed to have struck a nerve. "It's not right to call me by that name."

"Isn't it the name your parents gave you?"

"I don't respond to that name. Yomi is the name that Hiro-chan gave me."

"So it's not true that Kaiya-chan went abroad after all. But why do you suppose, Yomi-chan, that there is no trace of you being here in Japan within the last six months?" Regardless of the appearance of genuine curiosity on his face, it always seemed that Izaya knew the answer to his questions before he ventured them.

Having tired of his incessant questions, Yomi resumed her pace and brushed past him. "You are finally asking something that I really don't know the answer to, Uzaya-chan. If you want to know, you'll have to find out for yourself. I'm not really curious about that. Something like that seems really trivial."

Izaya easily caught up to Yomi, maintaining a long, smooth stride as he ambled beside her. His chin lifted as he gazed up toward the sky. "According to your brother's friends," and he made it a point to emphasize the relationship he had discovered between Yomi and Hiro, "Hiro-chan seemed really anxious a few days before he was killed. He suddenly cut off contact with them, saying it was dangerous. Curious, don't you think?"

"He knew they were after him, that doesn't change anything, Uzaya-chan. It is supremely unhelpful."

"You don't want to know why?" He was trying to goad her again.

But Yomi kept a poker face. "Not really. It wouldn't matter to me either way. The people who killed Hiro-chan are going to die and that's all I care about. So unless they gave you any helpful information, you really wasted my time answering those questions for you, Uzaya-chan."

"Scary, scary!" he responded in a chirping voice, putting some distance between the two of them. "You sound so angry, Yomi-chan. Did I get under your skin with my questions?"

"Well, your questions are kind of annoying... But it's okay, since you are letting me stay with you."

Izaya eyed her with great intrigue. It seemed as though, with the answers she had provided, Yomi had still not managed to satiate his growing curiosity – his unquenchable thirst for _knowing_ everything in regards to the happenings of Ikebukuro. His lips twitched at the thought of disclosing more, and it certainly seemed to Yomi that he knew more than he was letting on. Alas, the informant kept silent in regards to any knowledge he did or did not have as to the identity of Hiro's killers.

"I have another appointment," he said suddenly in that smooth voice of his. "I'll send you the bill for my coat later, Yomi-chan. Just don't forget it was a custom order and you'll need to provide a tip~" With a backward wave, he was off, diverging from the path they had been set upon.

Left behind, eyes narrowed as she watched him leave, Yomi muttered to herself, "He is like an annoying flea, after all." And rather than splitting up there, something crossed her mind – something that had nothing to do with Izaya's odd swagger or incessant humming (that strangely reminded Yomi of herself). So without a moment's hesitation, she set off after him.

Although she wanted to be inconspicuous, to trail after him without him knowing, Yomi was not entirely aware of the meaning of subtlety. In fact, more than anything, she was drawing gasps from the crowd of people who saw her tip-toeing and pressing her body up against buildings as she followed (not-so-stealthily) after Izaya. It seemed like a scene straight out of Mission Impossible, only more juvenile, amateur, and generally ineffective.

Yet, for however terrible she was at hiding herself, Izaya did not peer over his shoulder to look back at her. Nor did he speak a word. There was no action from him to signify he knew. For all intents and purposes, it seemed as though he was entirely unaware. But even Yomi was intelligent enough to guess it was all an act on his part.

Nonetheless, she tailed him all the way to Ikebukuro. Through the bustling subway and street corners, until he finally arrived in front of Raira – a school whose uniforms Yomi recognized. Immediately she deduced he was either meeting the creepy glasses chick (Anri), the bumbling buffoon playboy (Masaomi), or the quiet suspicious guy (Mikado). Hiding behind a narrow street pole, where her flashy clothing stuck out on both sides, Yomi tapped her chin in thought. Whatever she seemed to be mulling over was probably as ridiculous as her outfit. Regardless, there was the sound of a dialing phone in the background. She peered around the corner of the steel pole, eyeing Izaya who seemed to be tapping out a message on the keys of his cell.

When he finished, he seemed to gaze up at the school. There was that wry smirk on his face, which he always seemed to wear, but it was unusually more sinister than before. At least Yomi thought it was. And while he was waiting, she too was forced to loiter. Time seemed to tick away but since Yomi was not one to carry around any sort of device that could tell time, she was forced to peer up into the blinding sun, which, despite the clouds, had risen almost to its highest point in the sky.

And then she heard Izaya speak. "Ah, I thought you would make me wait even longer. But whats the hurry? All the rush, rush – something must be going on, hm?" His eyes closed as his smile widened. As innocent as he tried to make himself appear, he was a creeper, as far as Yomi was concerned. His actions just seemed more suspicious than before.

"Y-Yeah. Sorry to keep you waiting, Izaya-san." Out of breath and flustered, Mikado came to a skidding halt after sprinting out of the gates of Raira. His face was flushed as he hunched over to regain his composure. "When I thought of the people who might have some information about Hiro-san, you were the first person I could think of..."

"Oh ya? Have I become your last resort?"

The blue-eyed boy slowly shook his head. "N-No, that's not... Well, it's because Yomi-san suddenly left her apartment and said she gave up."

Izaya cocked his head back, brows lifted questioningly. "Hm? What's this? Are you concerned about her?" It almost seemed to elicit a chuckle from the depths of his throat to see Mikado worried over a person who had so obviously used him. But before Mikado could answer, Izaya uncharacteristically offered up something for Mikado. "Apparently there are some questions that should never be asked, and some answers that are better to not be given. After all, once you hear something, you can't unhear it, can you?"

Not quite following along, Mikado nevertheless gave a nod of agreement. "That's seems to be true."

"Aha! So if the yakuza have a secret they don't want anyone to know, then...?"

Since Izaya was leading him directly to the answer, it made it easy for Mikado to reach the conclusion. "They would kill you?"

"But what if you were in the organization? Organizations have their codes, members cannot kill other members. So what do you do to force a lowly dog with a loud bark from spilling everything?"

"Threaten?" As a good-natured person himself, it was difficult for Mikado to entirely fathom the underhanded tricks that gangs employed to keep silence among their members. So while it was not as though his guess had no basis, it was still wrong.

"Ah-ah. You dig your claws into whatever is close to them. No dog likes its bone to be taken, right?"

Still hiding behind the pole, Yomi blanched as she heard the words. For as much common sense she lacked, she still understood what it was that Izaya was telling Mikado. Yet, whatever thoughts were going on in her head were hidden by the mask she wore.

Similarly, the blue-eyed schoolboy seemed to come to a realization at Izaya's words. "Do you mean... Someone is coming after Yomi-san? Because Hiro-san asked too many questions and found out some information that he was not supposed to?"

"Oh, oh, look at the time!" Izaya exaggeratedly glanced down at the wrist watch that he did not have. Then he clapped his hands together. "Lunch period will be over soon." It was his inadvertent way of saying that he had no intentions of revealing any more information. As always, he was being stingy, revealing only enough to elicit some interest before pursing his lips and refusing to divulge anymore. He was a weasel by all considerations – or at least by Yomi's standards.

"R-right..." As though unaware of Izaya's usual scheming and conniving ways, Mikado offered him a nervous smile. "Well, thanks for your time." He gave a brief bow before turning and heading back into the school's courtyard.

As soon as the dark-haired boy had taken his leave, Izaya turned to go back the way he came. Yomi popped out from her hiding spot and fell into sync beside him, marching much like a stiff-legged soldier. Whether she was trying purposefully or not to be comical, or it was simply her generally odd nature, was unclear.

"You should really work on your stealth skills," Izaya chided her playfully.

She turned her head toward him and frowned, eyes half-lidded. "You are starting to know too much. Have you been snooping, Uzaya-chan?" As she spoke, her voice had lost its usual chipper tone. Yomi glared at her companion meaningfully, full of malice and resentment.

"How scary!" he said with a mock gasp, soon replaced by a wry smirk. "This side of you is much more interesting. Why don't you stop pretending to be sweet? Or do you think that you fool everyone with that facade?"

For a moment she studied his face as though debating his words. Then Yomi smiled promptly. "Ah, Uzaya-chan, you never fail to annoy me! What was all that talk about a dog, anyways? You don't seem the animal loving type."

"Oh? Well it does seem like I've recently attracted a stray cat."

There was an obvious insinuation there that, at first, he might not have expected Yomi to catch on to. She raised her eyebrows with a smirk. "They say you should be careful about feeding strays, you know. If you keep feeding it then it will keep coming back. But you know, cats aren't loyal like dogs..." Her gaze shifted. "... They tend to betray you at the most inopportune times."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I fail hard at updating quickly. I felt so unmotivated to write a 6,000 word long chapter like I used to. So, yes, this one is significantly shorter and future chapters will probably be of similar length. I figure better to post faster and shorter than to post every six months with something lengthy. Next one should be much quicker and less half-arsed. :\ My apologies for taking so long and thank you so much for the wonderful reviews, they're what keep me going.


	11. Falling One by One

**Chapter 11 - Falling One by One**

There was something lingering in the air of Ikebukuro that set him on edge. A pungent odor that lingered in the air, a familiar stench that he could not quite put his finger on. It hung like a thick fog that blanketed the entire city. Shizuo felt suffocated every time he breathed it in. The only respite was the nicotine from the half-crumpled cigarette crookedly wedged into the side of his mouth.

His hands were shoved firmly in the pockets of his uniform as he raggedly clambered up the stairs to his apartment. Another day had passed without a sign of Yomi. Somehow her absence had left his nerves in a bunch and he could not figure out why.

_"It's because you're in love,"_ Shinra had told him with great conviction.

Regardless of how gullible he was, Shizuo was certain that the emotion he felt was far more complicated than something as pure as 'love'. It was more like a heightened awareness of his surroundings. A weariness that he carried from the moment he woke in the morning until he went to bed at night. Perhaps that was because he was never quite sure when she might show up again. Life felt a little emptier when she was not around and far more hectic when she was. The blonde had yet to choose which of the two he preferred.

Not that he had the luxury of preference, considering that when his apartment door came into sight, so too did a familiar silhouette. He paused in the midst of his stride and lingered there for several moments, taking another drag from his cigarette before prying it from his mouth and flicking it away.

"Shi-chan!" she greeted him exuberantly the moment she peered over her shoulder and spotted him.

Taking a deep inhale, Shizuo reached for the pocket of his jacket. Another cigarette – he would need one if she was planning to make her visit very long.

Yomi happily skipped over to Shizuo, closing the distance between the two of them. At the same instance, he managed to pull out another cigarette, intent on getting another long drag in before their conversation started. In turn she seemed to wait patiently before striking up a conversation, watching as he pressed the flame of the lighter to the end of the cigarette. As soon as a wave of smoke came wafting out of his mouth, she started.

"Hey, Shi-chan, you wouldn't be happy if I stayed with you, would you?"

He choked as he took another inhale, unable to even form a coherent reply. Yomi stay with him? Was she honestly making such an absurd request? His mind struggled to wrap around the possibility of sharing his apartment with – no, no it would not work.

"Mhm, that's the response I thought I would get." A wry grin spread across her face as she reached up and plucked the cigarette right from his mouth. "You know, you really should stop smoking, Shi-chan. How are you ever going to get a girlfriend if you stink?"

His eye twitched. Yes, this was exactly the reason why he had to smoke just to tolerate her presence. Indignantly, he reached out to retrieve his cigarette from her but she ducked out of his grasp and danced back a few steps, putting some distance between them. Rather than get angry, Shizuo reluctantly sighed – somehow he had grown accustomed to this kind of behavior.

"Hm? You seem to be unusually accommodating," she commented as she twirled the still-burning cylinder-shaped object between her fingers.

Shizuo's nostrils flared as he picked up that scent again. It was that stench again but somehow the air had become unusually thick with it. Suspicious, he advanced a few steps and reached out to clasp Yomi's shoulder. Then he leaned down toward her. One whiff confirmed his concerns. "You... have been around Izaya again." That name seethed out of his mouth like poison dripping from the fangs of a snake.

As though to placate him, Yomi shoved the butt of the cigarette back in between Shizuo's lips right as he finished his sentence. "This is why I like you the most, Shi-chan. Other people don't seem to notice it but you're super perceptive, you know?"

His lips were taut in something resembling a frown as he leaned away from her, gentling lifting his hand from her shoulder. Shizuo was not sure how to take what she had said. Whether it was meant as a compliment or not, she had confirmed his concerns about her being around Izaya despite the warnings he had issued her.

"Are you worried about me?"

Surprised at the question, he chomped down on the butt of his cigarette. "What?" he growled irritably as he turned to his door and fumbled for the key in his pockets. No sense loitering outside when evening was quickly coming to a close. It would be getting dark out soon enough.

"Aw, don't dodge my question," Yomi sulked with a downtrodden expression as she slipped in behind him and pranced down his hallway toward his kitchen. It was not until that moment that he noticed the rustling of a sack and the clinking of glass. Apparently she had brought something along with her.

While Shizuo closed the front door and shuffled along down the hallway after removing his shoes, he heard the distant sound of his fridge opening. "What are you doing?" The question was tinged with exasperation.

"Bringing you more of that disgusting dairy stuff that you like, of course!" A smile spread from ear to ear as she held up two fresh glasses of milk that she had bought.

Even Shizuo could not help but soften a bit at the gesture, even if the way she conveyed it was a bit crude. He scratched at the back of his head, letting out another drawn-out sigh. Perhaps it was because he was not sure how to handle her.

"Hm, you must be thirsty right now, huh? You just got back from work after all. That makes sense! You should probably drink one of these now." While Yomi talked animatedly to herself, she left one of the glasses in the fridge and happily brought the other over to Shizuo. When she presented it to him, she let out a loud, "Ta-da~!"

Something about her behavior left him at a disadvantage. As much as he would like to shoo her out for being a nuisance, Yomi managed to redeem herself through small, endearing actions. Reluctantly he took the glass and downed the milk with several consecutive gulps, albeit not before discarding his half-smoked cigarette in nearby ash tray.

This earned him unwarranted applause. "See, I knew you were thirsty!"

Shizuo's gaze drifted from Yomi to the glass as he lowered it away from his lips. His mind reeled with the thought that Yomi was associating herself with Izaya. Some unfamiliar emotion bubbled at the pit of his stomach. What was it? Certainly he was concerned but that was not the emotion slowly overcoming him, creeping up from the depths of his being. As his grip tightened on the glass, there was a cracking sound as the fragile container started to fragment.

"Don't break it!" Yomi's voice pealed as she suddenly yanked the glass out of his hands. Fortunately it had not shattered, although she gave him an admonishing glare as she eyed the crack that had been left from the force of his fist clenching around it.

"Ah, sorry." The apology spilled past his lips almost like habit. Even Shizuo was a little surprised to hear himself say it.

Shaking her head tousled her already windblown hair. "It's weird to hear you apologize to me... What are you thinking so hard about, Shi-chan? You have a huge wrinkle on your forehead. It's not very attractive, you know~ and if you keep thinking so hard, it might get stuck there!"

His lips creased a small fraction, resembling something of a smile. "You should go home." Awkwardly, Shizuo reached his hand over and ruffled her hair – almost... affectionately? As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he froze and slowly pulled away from her.

Yomi did not share his confusion however and beamed at his touch. "Aye aye, captain!" She saluted him and then stiffly marched toward the hallway.

"Oi."

She paused before disappearing through the threshold and looked back at him excitedly. "Yeah?" Maybe she thought he was going to ask her to stay after all.

"You're still hanging around Izaya?"

The expression she gave him was unreadable as her eyelids lowered a fraction. "I have to." Even the tone of her voice had adjusted to match her countenance; she sounded subdued, hesitant. It did not match her usual, unnaturally upbeat personality at all. Even Shizuo, who lacked people skills, could tell something was off about her.

"Why?"

Suddenly her face broke into a smile as though that moment of weakness was just a temporary crack in her facade. "It's not something you should worry about, Shi-chan. I know you don't like him. Don't worry! I will be suuuu~per careful."

For whatever reason, Yomi was completely avoiding his question. The blonde frowned. There was a dissonance between what he thought and what he felt. While he tried to play off his concern as not wanting to see anyone else used as a puppet for Izaya's games, he could feel something in him clench indignantly at the fact that Yomi did not seem to trust him enough to confide in him.

"You don't have to look so disappointed, you know."

While he was distracted, the dark-haired female had sneaked back over and closed the distance between them. Standing on her tiptoes, she was about level with his chin. Shizuo's mind went blank as he watched that cat-like grin on Yomi's face spread from ear-to-ear.

"Would you feel better if I gave you another hug?"

The question did not even need to be spoken, considering she looped her arms around his waist without even waiting for confirmation. Then she lowered herself back onto the balls of her feet and leaned against him, pressing her face against his chest. It was a disorienting experience; especially when she nuzzled against him like a feline.

"Hm, you actually don't smell like smoke when I get this close..."

His thoughts were scrambled. How was he even supposed to react? What was he supposed to say? Rather than take any action in return, Shizuo just stood there dumbfounded without reciprocating anything. Reciprocate? No, of course he was supposed to push her away, but–

"Hey, Shi-chan. No matter what happens, you won't hate me, right?"

That question made him flinch. "Hate you," he echoed unevenly. What did she mean by that?

"Since I am not a good person, a lot of people don't like me. But you'll keep liking me even if I do bad things, right?"

Considering how vague and child-like her words were, he could not even begin to comprehend what she was getting at. Speaking in abstracts, he could only attempt to guess what it was that she was insinuating. Shizuo felt too unsure to commit a response but Yomi's embrace only tightened around him in the silence.

"It would be nice if I had one person on my side. Just one would be enough."

Something was really odd about Yomi. Although he had seen gaps in her personality that suggested she was usually pretending, it became suddenly more evident. Why all of a sudden was she showing more vulnerability?

Suddenly Shizuo reached up with both hands and roughly gripped Yomi's shoulders, pushing her away from him. She stumbled from the sudden pressure, looking completely flabbergasted that he was shoving her back. "You aren't planning something stupid?" His eyes searched hers and since Yomi had lowered her guard, it was evident. He did not even have to ask.

"Something stupid?" she laughed it off.

"You're planning on dying."

Again she lowered her eyelids and her lips did not even twitch to try and respond. It was a sign of her resignation, affirmation that his words were true.

The situation was unsettling for Shizuo, whose grip on Yomi's shoulders was probably bone crushing, although the girl had not so much as whimpered at the pressure. He eased off and eventually released her completely, dropping his hands back to his sides. There was an internal conflict in his head as he struggled between wanting to stop her and feeling that he had no right to do so.

Suddenly Yomi reached up and gently cupped her hand against the side of Shizuo's face. The feel of her gentle caress further clouded his eyes in doubt, but she just smiled at him in return. It was the first smile that he had ever seen from her that did not seem entirely put on for show. Perhaps this was the real Yomi and not the guise she usually wore. "You don't have to look so worried for me, Shi-chan. I should have died when Hiro did."

"Don't be stupid," he rebuked her harshly, planting his heavy hand against her head, forcing her to dip her chin down. It broke their gaze and hid her eyes away from him. Shizuo did not like the way she was peering up at him – with sadness and resignation.

"Thank you." Her hand lingered on his cheek for a moment before slowly gliding down and eventually drifting back to her side. Yomi's touch left a tingling in its wake, like a static that was at once unnerving yet pleasant. It further confused Shizuo, whose thoughts were already in a jumbled knot. While he was preoccupied trying to sort that mess out, he left his hand perched atop her head. However it was only a moment before she ended up gently knocking his hand away. "And I'm sorry."

The apology left him a bit nonplussed, especially since she abruptly turned and left without another word. Shizuo was left behind with a gaping void in his chest. What was it? He felt completely empty. The faint echo of his front door closing as she left further pounded that feeling into his head. It engulfed him and suffocated him. The fury he felt toward Izaya, his confusion about what was happening, and the last emotion he was not really sure about.

Was it... fear?

—

Namie's fingers drummed across her keyboard as she hastily input the new information she had received, pausing occasionally to peer down at the paperwork on her lap before resuming the work on her computer. She was so engrossed in her duties as a secretary that it seemed she would not even notice him leaving his chair.

But the moment he started to walk past her, she straightened her posture and stared after him. "Where are you going?"

Izaya peered back at her with a wry smirk. "Hm, are you curious all of a sudden?"

"If she comes back while you're gone..."

He sniggered at the threat she attempted to issue – all the while glaring daggers at him. "What's with the unnecessary concern, hm? You must be referring to our stray cat – are you not fond of her? Or are you... concerned about her?" His eyes regarded Namie critically as he studied for even the slightest change in her countenance to suggest that he had hit the mark with his guesses.

"Stop trying to analyze me, Orihara. I don't want her fiddling around while I'm trying to work. Keep her out of the office during the day." That ice-cold gaze of hers turned back toward her work as she immediately resumed typing.

"How cold~" he remarked in a casual tone as he slipped his jacket on. "But don't worry, Namie-san. I'm just going out to collect our stray. We wouldn't want her eating out of trashcans, now would we?" Those dark pupils of his glimmered with some unseemly emotion as he turned on his heel and left through the front door, slamming it behind him.

Even Namie had to wince at the sound. Staring after him, she murmured to himself, "Is he... jealous?" She clicked her tongue in dismay. What was she thinking? Of all people, he was the least likely to ever display something so "human." Yet even Namie had a suspicion that Izaya had taken an unnatural interest in Yomi.

—

"Huh? Y-Yomi-san?" Mikado was mildly shocked at who was presenting themselves in front of his door. He hesitated a moment before unthinkingly widening the opening of his door. It only stood to reason that he could not allow her to linger out in the cold when she had gone out of her way to pay him a visit. So in one swift motion he stepped aside and motioned to welcome her in.

The grinning female happily skipped into his apartment. "Thank you, Mi-chan!"

He smiled awkwardly at the new nickname she had suddenly come up with for him. "I-I don't have any tea..." The school boy's eyes nervously shifted from the girl whose back was turned to him, toward his "kitchen" as he tried to think about what he could offer her. "I think I have–"

"Let's skip the pleasantries, okay?"

There was something to her voice that made him feel uneasy. It was not the usual cheerfulness that Mikado had grown accustomed to hearing from her. Yomi, however, was an unusual creature – of this much he had grown acutely aware. "Is... is something wrong?" There was a distinct clicking sound as she slowly turned toward him. Mikado's eyes widened as he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun while the woman on the other end of it was smiling blithely at him.

"You have been asking a lot of unnecessary questions, you know!" Despite saying that, she shook her head at him with a pitying look. "Here I thought you would be a really useful pawn but you're becoming a bigger thorn in my side than Anri-chan. Can you stop?" All of a sudden that expression morphed as her smile faded away and those eyes of hers widened with killing intent. "Otherwise I'll have to blow off that head of yours."

Mikado's eyes remained glued to the gun she was holding – where did she get something like that? He gulped as he nodded his head in compliance, not particularly interested in opposing her in the first place, let alone the fact that she was threatening his life.

The tension lingered in the air as she kept her finger poised to the trigger, the barrel still level with Mikado's forehead. There was a brief period in time where Yomi almost seemed to be struggling between ending it or letting him go. Finally, however, she lowered the weapon and and tucked it back within the folds of her clothing. A smile had surfaced on her lips once more, as all traces of the previously threatening atmosphere completely dissipated. "Sorry that I can't stay longer. Busy-busy, as you know!"

"Y-yeah..." Mikado timidly bowed his head toward her and stepped out of the way as she advanced toward the exit. As soon as she was gone, he felt a big sigh burst past his lips as he sank down to his knees in relief. That was a bullet dodged. But even though he had agreed with Yomi, there was something lurking in Mikado that pushed him to want to find out the truth.

Meanwhile, just as she came to the base of the stairs, Yomi was met by an unexpected sight. "Uzaya-chan?" she wondered curiously with a tilt of the head. Those blue eyes of hers went wide with surprise but her cheeks dimpled as she grinned at him. "Did you come to see Mi-chan?"

The informant in turn scanned her person as though searching for something. Without speaking, he advanced toward her and paused when his shoes bumped against hers. The distance between them was minimal and his face was almost in hers.

"This is considered an invasion of personal space, you know."

His nose twitched. "You stink, Yomi-chan."

As though she did not believe him, she paused to sniff at her clothes. "Huh? I don't know what you are talking about, Uzaya-chan. I don't smell anything..." Especially since she had showered first thing that morning; she could not fathom what it was that he seemed so bothered by. Or the fact that he seemed to be glaring at her with such unusually serious eyes.

Izaya casually took a lock of her long, raven-black hair and brought it to his nose. "You smell... like cigarette smoke." Those dark eyes of his gleamed with hidden intent as he peered up at her with an unsettling crease in his lips. "You've been around Shizu-chan, haven't you?"

"Mm, I went to visit him earlier," she confided without even a moment's hesitation.

His grip on her hair tightened visibly and the smile drained away from his face as he leaned back from her. "Oh? Why do you insist in associating with that monster?" That look on his face; like a child whose favorite toy had been stolen away.

"Of course it's because I really like Shi-chan."

With that he released the strands of her hair, which gradually slipped between his fingers as he took two moderate steps back. This resumed their usual distance. Izaya remained uncharacteristically silent as he studied her face before a grin spread across his lips. "I see," he purred out, "You like Shizu-chan because you think the two of you are alike."

"Alike?" Yomi pursed her lips as she pondered this assertion. "Hm, I don't know the reason why. I just like Shi-chan because I like him."

While she was satisfied with such simplistic reasoning, Izaya was not. On the contrary, he seemed to completely dismiss the possibility that Yomi's fascination with Shizuo could be ordinary or normal. Instead he sought the deeper mechanics lying beneath. "You like him because he symbolizes the thing you are most afraid of."

"You sure enjoy reading deep into things."

"Do I? Or do you not want to admit that I might have just hit a bulls-eye?" The more he analyzed it, the more confident that Izaya became about his train of thought. "How about this one, Yomi-chan? You like Shizu-chan because he loses control of himself all the time, and it makes you feel better about when you lose control of yourself."

That blithe expression on her face changed in the blink of an eye. In an instant she lifted her hand into the folds of her clothes to reach for her gun, but she was not quick enough. Izaya had his flick-blade pressed against the base of her neck before she even had a chance to draw out her weapon.

"Tsk, tsk. No need to be so jumpy, Yomi-chan. Then you just confirm that everything I have said is true." He grinned at her triumphantly while keeping the blade poised at her throat for his own safety, lest she whip out that gun and actually fire it. Izaya, however, did not seem the least bit worried. Rather he seemed to revel in the thrill of keeping someone at his side that might shoot him in the back at any moment. It was a euphoric excitement that he had not experienced before – for as much as Namie glared at him, she did not have the killing intent lurking beneath her eyes that Yomi exuded in spades.

The dark-haired woman took heed of his words and lowered her hands in defeat, replacing them back at her sides. Izaya was not so quick to trust that she had given up – not the person who was stubborn enough to keep up an act while sporting a gunshot wound for so long. He did not doubt the possibility that the moment he lowered his flick-blade, she would reach for that gun again and blow his head off. So he waited for several moments until the anger in her eyes had simmered down enough that he deemed it safe.

"Hm, just as predictable as any ordinary person, Yomi-chan." He grinned wryly. "I'm a bit dis–"

The moment the blade left her throat, Yomi launched herself at him. Her hand formed into a tight fist that she thrust forth toward his face. And while Izaya had lowered his guard a fraction, he was not so trusting as to not have expected some form of retaliation. He attempted to evade the blow but the impact still hit his cheek as he turned his head. The force sent him reeling back a few steps.

Rather than looking surprised at her counter, he actually seemed quite pleased at Yomi's audacity to lash out at him. A rivulet of blood trickled between those grinning lips of his as he straightened his posture. "That's a pretty nasty right hook, Yomi-chan."

"I told you that you should be careful about feeding strays, Uzaya-chan. They tend to bite the hand that feeds them." Acting completely nonchalant, Yomi dusted off her clothes. In a single stride she brushed past him without looking back. "But as long as you hold your strange affinity for cats, we should head back to the office. That's why you came, right?"

Wiping away the thick, coagulating liquid with the back of his hand, Izaya moved to follow after her, mumbling a single word under his breath. "Interesting..."

* * *

**Author's Note:** We won't even talk about how long it took me to update. I decided to make some strides in character development and relationship development between all of the main three. This manifested itself as Yomi sharing her vulnerability with Shizuo while lashing out at Izaya. Hopefully everyone was still believably in character.

**Important - **I am opening up a poll (brand new one) once again to ask if you guys prefer her to be with Shizuo or Izaya. You can leave a review/comment on the story if you don't want to vote in the poll - or you can do both. I just want a general consensus on which way you would prefer this story to lean. Thanks for reading and sticking with the story/me despite long periods between updates!


	12. Advance

**Chapter 12 - Advance**

"Namie-chan, it's a bad thing if people can't keep promises... isn't it?"

The blue-eyed female had been quiet and contemplative most of the day, lazing about the couch adjacent to where Namie was seated. Meanwhile the dark-haired secretary was busily typing away and attending to the duties that her position required. But then suddenly Yomi came to life with incessant questions, seemingly out of nowhere. Namie was undecided if these inquiries were intended to be philosophical in nature or just the usual mindless banter.

Either way, she was not particularly keen on being a participant in the conversation – nor really a willing one. In fact, she thought that if maybe she ignored the questions entirely, since they did not seem to be directed toward her anyway, she could escape without speaking a word to the eccentric girl.

Yomi, on the other hand, did not seem the least bit put off by the fact that her conversational attempts were being rebuffed. Maybe the questions were rhetorical in the first place. In the back of her head, she probably knew the answer. Moreover, Namie was not the least bit aware of the context.

Regardless of the pervasive silence settling in the office – where Izaya was notably absent – Yomi continued her train of thought. "Do you think that Uzaya-chan is a bad person?"

That question gave the secretary pause as she peered over the top of her laptop, only to be met with Yomi's inquisitive, probing gaze. Namie sighed to herself. There were just too many ways to answer that and perspective was a big factor. Certainly she could take a blase attitude in answering, or matter-of-factly point out all of Izaya's negative qualities

While she was preoccupied pondering how to respond, Yomi spoke up again. "I don't think he is a bad person, but... I still don't really like him." She cracked a grin. "But it's still kind of regrettable if I break a promise to him. Do you think he'll be disappointed?"

"He probably expects it," Namie answered honestly. Izaya always seemed to think that he could easily predict human nature, and while Yomi had proven herself a wildcard, Izaya did not seem like one to rely upon promises. Whatever it was, it was probably made halfheartedly to begin with. Who took promises seriously? Perhaps that was just Namie's cynical nature speaking.

"Oh, so he already knew. I see." Yomi nodded emphatically. "Well, that makes it easier. I can leave with no regrets."

"Leave?" Namie echoed, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Without answering, Yomi dipped her hand into the depths of her jacket and produced the gun she had been toting around for some time now. She pulled out the ammo cartridge and paused to inspect how many bullets remained. Any expression that had previously occupied her face vanished by now. Her countenance was grim and pale – more so than usual. If Namie had not known any better, she might have suspected that Yomi was going off to war, what with how serious she was acting.

"Where did you get that gun?" Namie asked. Her tone was not one tinged with curiosity; rather, she spoke almost accusingly.

Yomi tucked the weapon away before glancing up at Namie. "If your parents can't raise you in a loving home, they can at least provide you favors when you need them." She grinned at that, almost laughing at the absurdity of her own statement. Yet for as vague as it was, it was quite telling about Yomi's upbringing.

Still, the answer was presented in a rather startling manner. Namie had not expected Yomi to be so nonchalant about it. Perhaps that was why, stunned into silence, she spoke not another word even as her gaze silently followed the blue-eyed girl as she made for the door.

Settling her hand against the knob, Yomi briefly peered back over her shoulder. "It was fun while it lasted, Namie-chan. Try to make sure Uzaya-chan doesn't get himself killed. He sure seems to enjoy playing with fire. Bye-bye!"

—

Evening was rapidly descending upon the city. It brought unease to one of the stragglers that had broken loose of the bustling crowds of people as they meandered through the various crosswalks spread across the layout of the city. People heading home from work, no doubt – or whatever other activities they involved themselves in.

To Anri who found herself on a corner overlooking Sunshine Sixty, such details were impertinent. She had come here for one specific purpose. Obtaining the information that Yomi had requested proved particularly tedious and nothing short of dangerous. Risking the life of another person was not something Anri was particularly keen on – yet at the same time, she had no intentions of allowing either Masaomi or Mikado to endanger themselves.

With her mission complete, all that was left was to report to Yomi. Then everything would be over. Peace would return their lives, at least for the time being. That was all that Anri could hope for. Yomi's very presence in Ikebukuro had been nothing short of an unappreciated disturbance.

Steeling herself for this final encounter, Anri crossed the street with the rest of the unsuspecting citizens, who were no doubt unaware of the chain of events about to unfold. Even Anri did not seem to be aware of what it was that she was about to do – or what it would set into motion.

Meanwhile, in an internet chat room...

**Kanra has joined the chat room.**

** Kanra:** It looks like something exciting is going to happen tonight~

** Setton:** ?

**Tanaka Taro:** What do you mean?

**Kanra:** Ah~ haven't you guys heard?

** Kanra:** Well, it's super unfortunate, honestly.

**Setton:** What are you on about?

**Kanra:** Remember how I said I knew Hiro-san?

**Setton:** Sure, and you said he was involved in something shady.

**Tanaka Taro:** What about it?

**Kanra: **Well... I said that I hoped that his girlfriend wasn't involved in the organization like he was.

** Kanra:** It seems like she wasn't.

**Setton:** Then that's good.

**Kanra:** Sure, it would be, if it stayed that way.

**Tanaka Taro:** What do you mean by that?

**Kanra:** Weeeell~

**Setton:** Don't drag it out. Just say it already.

**Kanra:** Seems like she's going to make contact with them tonight. So scary~

**Kanra:** Especially since it seems like they're the reason Hiro-san died.

**Tanaka Taro:** How do you know all that?

**Kanra:** Well, she's been poking around a lot. Along with another girl.

**Kanra:** Some girl with a Raira uniform and glasses.

**Kanra:** Asking super-scary questions.

**Setton:** Do you know where she is supposed to be meeting them?

**Kanra: **I wouldn't know something like that.

**Kanra:** I don't want to get involved in scary stuff!

What a hypocrite, Celty thought to herself as she hastily signed off. Still, even as annoyed as she was with Kanra's vague information, there was no more time to be wasted in front of a computer screen. The dullahan was more than adequately intelligent enough to make all of the connections in her head. From the phone conversations she had overheard between Shizuo and Shinra, plus the conversation she had with Shizuo over a week prior – the girl searching for information on Hiro Inoue was no doubt the girl named Yomi. And she was inexplicably tied to Shizuo somehow.

Knowing what information she did, Celty could not loiter around in Shinra's apartment and not at least attempt to make contact with Shizuo and alert him. Perhaps he would do nothing with this tidbit. Maybe it was not even something reliable. (After all, Celty always found Kanra a little questionable – but the information had always seemed to be accurate.)

Whatever the outcome, obligation motivated her to take her leave. Helmet firmly secured and PDA safely tucked away, she left to retrieve her motorcycle before making her way out. Just in time to bump into Shinra, no less.

"Hm? Celty? Going somewhere?" he asked innocently with a supplementary grin.

If she had eyes, she would have narrowed them in suspicion. That sly act of his was never the least bit convincing. Nonetheless, she did not have the time to take a jab at him – that would require pulling out her PDA. There was not a moment to waste. So she hoped he would be satisfied with a nod. (As much of a nod as a headless person can give, that is. It more or less resembled a bow.)

Shinra called after her with some mushy parting words that made her want to send a punch in his general direction, but she would have to save that for later.

As soon as she was out on the streets of Ikebukuro, she mounted her motorcycle and set off. The wind whipped against her lithe body as she maneuvered through the traffic. Somehow the evening seemed busier than usual. That was probably just her imagination, however; since she was suddenly in a hurry, of course her misfortune would be that the world wanted to hold her up. Celty was too skilled a rider to be dissuaded, though – she easily managed to whip in and out of the lines of congestion.

By the time she managed to reach Shizuo's apartment, the sun was beginning to duck behind the horizon. Light was rapidly fleeting and street lamps were beginning to flicker on. Celty was quick to dismount and head for the stairs but before she could even start clambering up them, a voice called out from behind her.

"Eh? What are you doing here?"

She did not have to look to know. Immediately Celty whipped out her PDA, her fingers skittering across the screen in an almost panicked rush.

Shizuo took the opportunity to close what distance remained between them and waited expectantly until Celty flashed the screen in his direction. He read the message silently, eyes slowly scanning from left to right. "Eh?" It seemed as though he did not understand what she was getting at. The cigarette lodged between his lips rocked back at forth as he voiced his confusion. "What are you talking about?"

_"Remember when you asked for information for that girl you said was stalking you? About Hiro Inoue and his involvement in an organization."_ She hurried to elaborate, feeling particularly impatient.

One of the hands resting at his sides appeared to be carrying a convenience store bag, which rustled as his fingers curled into tight fists – knuckles turning a pale white. "Mm, what about it?" As nonchalant as he tried to act, she could sense something in his voice. Those beady eyes of his almost glared back at her as he waited for her to explain.

_"I got some information that she's meeting up with someone from that organization tonight. It sounds like it's going to be dangerous."_

His eyes averted to the ground for a moment as he paused to take this information in. It gave Celty the impression that he thought it had nothing to do with him, but Shizuo was not a good liar. Obviously that was not how he really felt.

_"That girl – Yomi – she's the one, right?"_

Shizuo languidly lifted his gaze back to the screen, lazily reading over the question. "Yeah."

If Celty could, she would have sighed. _"I have a bad feeling about this."_

His lips twitched. "Yeah..."

There was something a little disappointing about his reaction. Celty had figured he would have pounced on the information with his usual flare of fiery anger. Maybe she had overestimated his involvement with Yomi. No doubt Shinra had blown things out of proportion – it was probably just one-sided. Shizuo was not romantically inclined to begin with, let alone for someone as eccentric as Yomi had seemed to be. Perhaps coming had been a waste–

"You know where they're meeting?"

_"Not sure."_ Then, suddenly, Celty recalled something that Kanra had said. _Some girl with a Raira uniform and glasses._ There was no doubt; it had to be Anri. Celty had, herself, seen the girl being more active lately around Ikebukuro without the presence of either Mikado or Masaomi. Perhaps that should have tipped her off. _"I know someone that might."_

"Not Izaya," he growled out in protest almost immediately.

_"No, Anri Sonohara. I think she has been asking around for Yomi."_

Shizuo took this information with lucid eyes this time – as though he had gained some resolve despite his initial hesitancy. "I'll go." Though it was only two words and Celty had not explicitly invited him along, they had a sort of mutual understanding. It was what allowed them to enjoy such a close friendship – although, perhaps "close" was not exactly the word for it.

Shizuo carelessly left his convenience store bag at the base of the stairs. It gave Celty pause before mounting her motorcycle, a split second hesitation that alerted him to what she was thinking. "Not much time left 'fore sunset," he grunted. Obviously they had not a moment more to spare before starting their search. To find Yomi, they had to find Anri – and Celty's first stop was the high schooler's house.

Meanwhile, someone else had apparently had a similar idea. Mikado had signed off of his computer just moments after Setton's departure, hastily bidding that Kanra have a good night. He tried immediately to call Anri – having recognized the description of a girl wearing glasses in a Raira uniform.

For whatever reason, however, his call was not answered. Instead the phone went straight to voicemail. And although he tried several more times, the result never changed. Wasting time trying to call her repeatedly would accomplish nothing. So he immediately tried calling Masaomi – who seemed a bit put-off by Mikado's frantic tone. Nonetheless, he confessed that he had not had much success getting in touch with Anri all day either.

While it seemed like a longshot, given that if she was not answering her phone she was probably also not just loitering around at her house, Mikado decided to try paying her a visit. By the time he made it there, he was out of breath – pausing to take gasping gulps of air at her front door before rapping with great urgency. There was no answer the first time or the fifth.

He had expected as much but it gave him a bad premonition. It felt as though his heart had dropped into his belly, leaving him experiencing what must have been nausea. Still, Mikado was not one to carelessly abandon a cause. If there was one person he trusted to deliver him the information he needed, then it had to be...

_"Hm~ I figured I would be hearing from you soon."_

"Ah, Orihara-san..." he answered back, tightening his grip around the cellphone that was held steady at his ear.

No doubt the sly informant was smirking on the other end, pleased that his expectations had been met. If Mikado was a bit more perceptive, he probably would have at least been able to be suspicious enough to think that Izaya had orchestrated this whole setup. But alas, everything was playing out just as Izaya had intended.

—

"I was almost wondering whether you would show up or not. Ah, you're terrible about making people wait, Anri-chan. And your arrival was too anticlimactic. I would have to deduct points for that, you know. You won't get a full score now."

Somehow Anri could not suppress the frown as she found herself face to face with the overly-exuberant Yomi, who had been waiting expectantly. "You did not specify an exact time; you only said to come when the sun begins to set," she reminded the other woman dutifully.

"Tch," Yomi grumbled disdainfully with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You are just too uptight. This is why you don't have a boyfriend yet, Anri-chan."

Those two things clearly had nothing to do with each other, but it would have been a waste of time to contest what was an opinion anyways. Anri did not want to linger any longer than she had to. It was dangerous enough already to have gone out of her way to gather the information; no doubt she was being followed again. Just as that thought crossed her mind...

"Hm, you seem to attract flies, Anri-chan. That is rather annoying." Although the excitement on her face clearly betrayed the words she was speaking. Then, suddenly, Yomi clapped her hands together as an idea seemed to light up in her head. "Ah, I know! We can play cat-and-mouse. That sounds like fun, right?"

It most certainly did not have any appeal to Anri. Again she found herself frowning, though this time in disapproval. "Yomi-san, I–"

The other woman was not about to wait around to listen for protest; she closed the distance between the two of them in the blink of an eye and grasped Anri's wrist in her hand. "Okay, I hope you're a good runner and you can keep up." There was a brief flash of a smile that disappeared when Yomi suddenly jolted forward, yanking Anri along behind her.

Their pace quickened as they rounded a corner, the air filling with the sound of footsteps as the men following Anri were forced to break out of cover to pursue the two. Meanwhile Yomi and Anri found themselves trying to dodge the crowd of moving people, who were only gradually beginning to thin. It would have been easy enough for them to lose each other, if Yomi had not maintained a death grip on Anri's wrist that was almost bruising in nature.

Unfortunately their "adventure" was cut short when Yomi rounded a corner and yanked Anri down an alleyway – only for the two of them to discover that it was deserted. Panicked, Anri took a sweeping gaze around to see if they could at least hide but even as she tried to lunge at a pile of trash and pull Yomi along with her, the other woman remained steadfast.

At that point, Anri noticed an eerie looking grin on Yomi's face as she turned her gaze toward Anri. "No point in hiding," she cooed. "You are not just a throw-away pawn, Anri-chan. I expect that you can fight back even if you are cornered. You are that kind of chess piece, aren't you?"

It was at that point that Anri understood. Gathering information in the first place had been a ruse. Yomi had known that Anri would not risk herself or anyone else enough to obtain the details that Yomi truly wanted. So instead, Yomi intended to use her as bait – cast a line far enough and your chance of reeling in a big fish increased.

And while a part of Anri resented being used in such a manner, she was backed far enough into a corner that she could not simply abandon Yomi at this point. Even if she managed to escape, she would be leaving Yomi behind to die.

"I won't kill anyone," she declared resolutely, at the same time conceding that Yomi had out-maneuvered her.

The other woman grinned promptly. "You can just incapacitate them." At that, she reached into her jacket and produced what appeared to be a hand gun. "I can take care of the rest myself."

—

"Do you need something?" Namie barked over at Izaya, who had planted himself on the sofa's armrest while peering over her shoulder. That intense gaze of his had always been annoying but particularly when he seemed to be scrutinizing her work. Moreover the fact that she had already dealt with Yomi acting odd earlier. She had little patience reserved for any eccentric antics – even if they came from her employer. More than likely he was about to go into some psychological spiel anyways.

And accurate as her insights were, a cat-like grin surfaced on Izaya's face. "Say, Namie-san... what do you think about cat and mouse games?"

There was an audible sigh in response. "What are you trying to get at?" She was not about to play into his hand and start throwing out random guesses without any clue what direction his train of thought was going.

"Who do you think enjoys it more? The cat?" he proposed, "Or maybe the mouse?"

"Considering you are never the one in the cat or mouse role, I'd say the observer. Since you always seem to enjoy it more than your unwitting victims," she remarked bitterly with little interest.

That seemed to spur an idea. "Oh? Then you think it would be more fun if I put myself in one of those roles?"

Somehow, Namie did not like where he was taking this. What was he insinuating? What mischievous plan was brewing in that demented head of his? She frowned in disapproval. Although she wished he would just stop his annoying scheming; granted that, as long as it did not affect her beloved brother, she could hardly care less.

"Well? Would it be more interesting if I made myself the mouse?"

"Are you trying to say that you're going to make Yomi the cat?"

That crooked grin of his widened. "Ah, so you already figured it out. Very perceptive."

It was hardly a difficult guess to make, given that Izaya seemed to be preoccupied by some obsession with tormenting people. Yomi just seemed like the next best person to start performing his unusual social experiments on.

Namie groaned inwardly. Did this mean she would have to see Yomi around the office again? With that thought in mind, she side-eyed the smirk on Izaya's face as he trailed back toward his desk and settled in front of his computer. "Did you make a promise with that girl?"

"Hm? Promise?" He seemed just as clueless.

"Before she left earlier, she said something about a promise with you. That she wouldn't be able to keep it. Seemed like she didn't intend to come back here again."

There was an unusual frown that creased on Izaya's lips as he took in the information. He did not seem particularly surprised, just displeased. "Is that so," he muttered to himself. His countenance cracked into a mischievous smile – a clear indication that he had something in mind to turn this in his favor.

Just for that reason, Namie could taste the regret on her tongue. Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut. No – better to ignore it and just return to her work. It was none of her business anyways.

—

"How lucky, it seems like he has corroborated the information you have, Anri-chan. It looks like I was right to trust in your ability after all." The blithe smile did nothing for the man cowering on his knees in the alleyway, his arms forced behind his back and his eyes staring down the barrel of a gun. His entire body was trembling, anticipating that finger of hers that was poised at the trigger.

Anri watched in silence but the worry was clear in her eyes. At one moment she wanted to put faith in Yomi and believe that she would not actually pull the trigger, on the other hand, Anri wanted to lunge forward with her blade and put an end to all the madness. The conflict had her wringing her hands; she played the role of a bystander but the fate of the man's life could very well be in her hands.

"So just one more question, Mister. And I hope you answer honestly." Yomi leered down at him as she spoke. Her eyes shone with pure insanity. In her hunt for revenge she had let slip away whatever shreds of morality remained. Her single-minded pursuit for justice had left her blind – tunnel vision was all that remained as she raced straight for the end. Whatever the end entailed, she just wanted to see it through.

The man gulped visibly and gave jerky nod of the head as sign of his consent, that he would honestly answer the question as she had requested.

"You weren't one of the ones that hassled my Hiro-chan, were you? You weren't one of the ones... that chased him into a corner he couldn't escape... were you?"

He quickly choked out, "N-No, I wasn't involved. I swear to you!" His eyes told her what his lips wouldn't; he was lying.

Yomi's expression softened. "I see. So you swear to me you weren't involved."

Just as the man started to relax, her finger constricted against trigger.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I struggled so much with this chapter which is why it is out way later than it should have been. I wanted to trying jumping perspectives pretty constantly, hopefully that doesn't cause any confusion. It really fried my brain. Not something I am particularly used to. But Reaching for Nothing has been really fun in that it has helped me grow as an author that way. Huge thanks to **Sepsis**. I appreciate every review but you always give me the most wonderful feedback. ._. Thank you so much for being so awesome.


	13. Check

**Chapter 13 - Check**

The smoke burned her nose as she inhaled, cloying at the back of her throat. She felt the intense urged to choke and yet she stubbornly pressed on despite the sense of danger weighing on her mind. To stifle the charred stench of bodies that surrounded her, Yomi pulled her shirt up over her nose. It barely helped but at least managed to subdue her sense of smell some.

She was weaving her way through debris as she peered about the warehouse. A sudden explosion that had gone off before she had even arrived had left the area in disarray. In the background she could hear disorienting screams and panicked shouts as people tried to evacuate.

This. This was what she had spent the past several weeks searching for. This "headquarters" that had suddenly gone up in flames, her plans brought to an abrupt halt at the sound of sirens blaring. Policemen were rapidly approaching, no doubt with the fire department to quell the flames still licking at the building – whose rafters were currently crumbling above Yomi. She seemed entirely unfazed.

Other people were rushing to leave even as she had made her way inside. Their confused stares went unnoticed by her. And now that she was nearly at the center of the of the entire building, no doubt completely surrounded by flames that consumed everything in their path as they devoured the entire facility, Yomi remained motionless. She should have been moving. Should have been clearing out to avoid injury – or worse, death. But instead she sank down to her knees.

The expression on her face was almost serene. But it was not the countenance of a person angered that revenge had slipped through their fingers. No, she seemed at peace. _Just let it end,_ she thought bitterly. The loss of Hiro had been enough of a toll on her mentally that carrying on had been a feat of itself. They were inseperable and always had been.

Why? Why did they have to be born as two different people? She had always felt incomplete without him. It had always taken both of them to make one person. Trying to continue on as one half of a whole was too painful. Her broken ribs, the bullet wound that was still healing – neither could compare to the wound inflicted upon her heart; the loss.

"It's okay now, Hiro-chan. If I can die like this then it will be okay." She smiled as she peered up at the ceiling – as though seeing past it to the skies above. In reality those glazed pupils were focusing on the collapsing rafters. As soon as they fell, they would crush and kill her instantly. All she had to do was wait patiently. Her eyelids drifted closed as she recalled the events leading up to this moment.

—

**An Hour Earlier**

Anri was just about to rush forward to try to intervene but before she could even move, Yomi had pulled the trigger. Her entire body froze as she waited for it – for the bang that would be followed by fresh blood splattering across the pavement. Yet there was nothing but an empty click.

Yomi cackled at the terrified expression on the face of her victim as she pulled the gun away from his head. "The look on your face! That was priceless. Maybe I should threaten people like that more often? But it seems like you told the truth so I don't have any more use for you. Maybe you should run along. Ah, but don't get too complacent because I still have all the bullets in my pocket even if the gun is empty right now."

An audible sigh passed through Anri's lips as her shoulders fell slack. "It was empty," she echoed in relief.

The black-haired woman regarded her with a quirked brow. "Hm? Were you fooled too, Anri-chan?"

"Was that really necessary?" It seemed less a question and more a demand for some semblance of regret on Yomi's part as Anri glowered at her.

Laughter trilled from Yomi's throat as she reloaded her gun and returned it to its hidden position inside of her jacket. "I think we have had enough loitering in this alleyway, Anri-chan. There is still another one looking for you, right? We can't get too comfortable. You should be careful heading back home. I will be off to check out this address." Yomi gave Anri a casual military salute – positioning only her middle finger and forefinger level with her forehead before striding toward the exit of the alley. The man that they had captured was left behind on his hands and knees, trembling in disbelief with misty eyes and tear-stained cheeks – no doubt relieved to still be alive.

Certainly lingering would be inadvisable and she definitely had no reason to stay. Anri took Yomi's advice begrudgingly and headed back home. In the back of her mind, she could not shake the sense of foreboding she had been experiencing.

Meanwhile in front of Anri's house, two parties had managed to meet by a little more than coincidence. The surprise appeared quite evident on Mikado's face – no doubt for reasons beyond seeing the "headless rider" with the renowned Shizuo Heiwajima hanging out on the back of her bike.

_"Do you know where Anri Sonohara is?"_ Celty typed out hastily while Shizuo angrily chomped down on the butt of the cigarette protruding out of his mouth.

"No," he confided honestly. "I tried to call her but she wouldn't answer and does not appear to be at home right now."

The headless woman slumped in disappointment. How best to deal with this situation, particularly with the ticking time bomb she had sitting on the back of her ride? If she had brows, they would have been knitted together in contemplation as she tried to evaluate her options.

"Why were you looking for her...?"

_"Ah, this girl named Yomi that Shizuo knows seems to be in a bit of a pinch. Since Anri has apparently been associated with her lately, I thought she might be able to tell us something."_

This information did not particularly come as much surprise to the boy but his face instantly lit up. "If that's the case," he said, "Then I think I can help."

_"What do you mean?"_ Her fingers skittered across the screen.

"I have the address of the warehouse that I think she is going to."

Meanwhile back in Shinjuku at his office, Izaya had been busily preparing everything on his end. Namie had listened quietly as he made phone call after phone call. The life of an informant had built enough contacts that he was able to string everything together like a puppet show. Disgusting, in her opinion, but she was not about to voice that.

When he completed his latest call, he leaned back in his chair, leaving his cell phone on his desk as he peered over at his chess board. The pieces were somewhat scattered – and many of them did not even belong on a chess board to begin with – but it was clear that the first check was about to be called. He grinned to himself.

For as unpredictable as Yomi tried to make herself, Izaya was going to lengths to prove that even she was no exception to the rule. Ultimately every human fell into the same line. And he had yet to meet one that could defy very many of his expectations. Now that the game was coming to a close, he could not afford for everything he had expended effort on to go to waste. Even if she intended to die, he could not allow it. She had to keep her promise – it was not yet her time to die. He still had enough interest in her that he could not let it go so easily.

A glance at the clock on the far wall told him that the time to loiter had passed. It was time to go into action. And this would be the first time that he had ever placed himself as a piece on the board. A necessary evil; and hopefully it would prove fruitful. The suggestion had come from Namie, after all, whether she realized it or not.

He stood from his chair, snatching his phone off of the desk. "I will be sure to bring Yomi-chan back to visit you, Namie-san." Giving her a backwards wave, he disappeared out of the front door.

Back in Ikebukuro – in an area that had grown rather dilapidated and mostly deserted – rested a warehouse. It was out of there that the gang Yomi had been pursuing was apparently operating. This was also the address given to her by Anri and confirmed by the man that had been following her.

Yomi tucked the piece of paper into her pocket as she maneuvered the maze of streets leading into the warehouse. Most of the area lying just outside of the actual headquarters were just old apartment buildings whose residents were mostly impoverished. Some of them were, no doubt, part of the gang itself.

Before the dark-haired girl ever ventured close enough to her actual destination, something went off that sent a tremor through the earth and had her struggling just to keep her balance. The sound was ear-splitting – an explosion? Almost immediately she could see a tower of smoke rising from the exact place she had been heading toward.

Where before she had been slowly shuffling along, she now broke into a sprint. Faster and faster, her legs carried her despite the throbbing pain in her side that only grew. The more she pushed herself, she knew that she risked reopening her wound again. No matter, she thought, because she had no intention of seeing another day beyond this one anyways.

When she arrived at the warehouse, she could already see that people were rapidly evacuating. Many of them were carrying away weapons; perhaps this was primarily an illegal arms stash. It made sense according the information that Yomi had on Hiro and his involvement. But it presented a problem in the fact that the higher-ups would no doubt be long gone by the time she managed to get inside.

There were already sirens blaring in the background. Any stragglers would be arrested on sight and questioned. It was unclear whether the explosion itself had been detonated intentionally or had been act of retaliation by another gang from the area. The possibilities were endless and ultimately unimportant.

She had not come all this way for all of her efforts to be fruitless. It occurred to her that she could catch one of the dozens fleeing and question them, but what was the point? The opportunity was already rapidly slipping through her fingers. The police would arrive before she could do much of anything.

Maybe this was fate. It certainly seemed like divine retribution. Perhaps Hiro was gazing down at her from up above and cursing her. Karma had come to return her sins tenfold. There was little point in speculating all of this, she thought. Lament as she may, it did not change the situation that presented itself before her.

In the end, her ultimate goal was not necessarily to achieve revenge. She had always been seeking closure; some sense of finality that could fulfill the gaping void left within her at Hiro's absence. Perhaps this had not explicitly been what she was seeking but she would not refuse the opportunity.

Yomi ventured inside, despite the bellowing and pleading of a few people who caught sight of her. Their warnings went unheeded as she pushed inward against the smoke that infiltrated her senses and corroded the insides of her lungs. It was painful but she felt somehow comforted by that. This was her punishment.

Just outside of the warehouse that Yomi had entered, a motorcycle came tearing through the streets. Having seen the smoke, Shizuo shared Celty's sense of urgency as he gritted his teeth against the butt of the cigarette still hanging out of his mouth. With the speed at which they had been traveling, it hardly had a chance to burn. He had merely used it as a distraction. But now he could almost taste the bitterness of the filter as it was smashed by his teeth and rolled across his taste buds.

As soon as the motorcycle rolled to a stop, he was on his feet and spitting the detestable object out of his mouth. Celty was behind him but a moment later. The two had left Mikado behind with the promise to bring Yomi back safely.

_"I don't see her anywhere."_

Shizuo grunted in response to the message that Celty flashed in his direction. His gaze turned toward the few remaining people that had just emerged from the warehouse. He did not even have to voice his thoughts; Celty moved along beside him as he headed in their direction. One tried to rush past the two of them but Shizuo almost immediately caught the man with his fist.

"Hold it," the blonde snarled testily.

_"What happened?"_ There was a moment of hesitation before she finally typed out the question. Ultimately what they needed to know was not the source of the explosion – which Celty feared might be Yomi herself – but whether Yomi had even arrived yet.

"I... I don't know!" the man cried back hysterically.

Shizuo seemed liable to send the man flying back toward the burning building, but Celty hastily typed out another message. _"Calm down!_ _Did you happen to see a dark haired girl with blue eyes before or after the explosion? Rather short, eccentric looking? Dressed in strange clothing? Looked like she didn't belong here?"_ She constantly added another sentence to supply more information to the man in hopes of identifying Yomi.

He was still too panicked to really register the message as he struggled against Shizuo's strength. "I... I told you, I don't know!"

As if whatever patience he had exerted had suddenly snapped, Shizuo lifted the man off of his feet as though poised to toss him.

"W-Wait!" he cried. "There... there was this weird girl who went in the building. And we tried to stop her but she went in anyways!"

_"You mean, after the explosion?"_ Celty clarified.

"Yes. Yes! After the explosion!" By now he was almost choking as the collar of his shirt was being constricted so tight that he was being asphyxiated.

Shizuo wasted no more time and chucked the man to the side like a bag of garbage that had just happened to be in his way. Almost immediately he started toward the building, even as smaller explosions were going off inside – rocking the ground and leaving both Celty and Shizuo a little unsteady on their feet.

_"Wait!"_ Celty tried to get his attention by grabbing at his shoulder and waving her PDA in his face, but he seemed to ignore any attempts on her part to try to stop him. _"It's too dangerous, if you go inside then you might..."_

The blonde just pushed her aside, albeit gently. "I'll be back," he grumbled at her after breaking away from her hold. As he approached, he slipped the blue-shaded sunglasses off of his face and tucked them in his breast pocket. "Stay out here," he instructed Celty before entering.

The headless woman already had a horrible feeling about this when she heard the approach of sirens growing louder. Certainly she did not want to be caught here when they arrived. At the very least, she had to find some place to hide in the meantime. Believing that Shizuo would emerge alive and well – hopefully with Yomi in tow – she had to keep safe in the meantime so she could act as their getaway if required. Granted that her motorcycle hardly afforded room for multiple passengers. She had little other choice.

Within the building, Shizuo experienced the sting of the smoke against his eyes. He squinted but it did little to help. The heat was sweltering – although the building was large enough that the fires were mostly contained to specific areas. It had not spread enough that it was too much of an immediate danger. Well, perhaps that was an understatement; his life was certainly endangered but the heat was not so overwhelming that he could not tolerate it. Even though he felt like a potato being baked in an oven.

Still, the probability of finding Yomi alive was not promising. Even Shizuo was well aware that the circumstances were not stacked in their favor. He had – probably – four minutes before he would be overwhelmed and killed himself. That was not a very long time frame for him to locate Yomi and make it out.

Although it was unlikely that she would hear him over the roar of the flames that were consuming everything, he had to at least try calling out to her. "Yomi!" his throat felt scratchy as he bellowed her name. It felt strange on his tongue, and he nearly choked as he inhaled.

Hurry – he had to hurry.

—

_"Yomi!"_

Someone was calling her name...? Ah, it had to be her imagination. Surely she was dreaming. She knew that she was already on death's door. Just a couple more minutes and the already sweltering heat that had her entire body perspiring, would grow to an unimaginable degree. It would be too much for any human to handle and it would kill her. If the smoke didn't beat the heat to it, that is.

"Yomi?!"

Strange. It sounded so close; so real, so desperate. A voice that almost seemed to be pleading with her. And it was definitely familiar. It could not be possible but – was it Shizuo? "Shi-chan," she whispered to herself in amusement. How laughable; although she could vividly conjure his image up in her memory, she knew better than to believe he would be calling out to her in a burning warehouse. Apparently the fumes had done something funny to her cognition.

"Yomi!"

A hand seized her and immediately her eyes flashed open. Yomi almost instinctively reached for her gun but she saw his face before she was even able to pull it out. That disheveled blonde hair and those eyes, brown as coffee grounds, set wide as he stared at her. And he seemed to be out of breath, choking on the smoke.

"You shouldn't be here, Shi-chan," she told him instantly, shrugging off his hand.

He did not have time for her protest. It was clear by the glaze over her eyes and her irregular breathing that she had been even more affected by the exposure than he had. They had to clear out. Utilizing his inhuman strength, the blonde reached for Yomi and lifted her through the air.

Despite her initial protest, she did not attempt to wriggle from his grasp. Her consciousness was already growing faint as she stared blearily up at him. The confusion was clearly written across her face. Why? Why had he bothered to save someone like her?

Shizuo held her close as he started out of the building. By this time, however, the ceiling was starting to collapse in on them. Scorched debris littered the ground and their escape route was quite quickly becoming blocked off.

Yomi thought to tell Shizuo to save himself but the grim determination on his face deterred her. No doubt he would be too stubborn to heed her words. Her entire throat felt raw and scratchy, anyways. Speaking would be a struggle. But for the first time, she thought that she did not want it to end this way. It would have been fine if it had just been her but – no, not now. Not with Shizuo added to the mix. Tears stung at the edge of her eyes. Yomi was not a genuine or sincere person but... she knew that, for certain, she did not want Shizuo to die because of her.

That thought gave her enough strength to coax her adrenalin into overdrive as the blonde started to stumble. No doubt he had already inhaled too much smoke. And Yomi was not about to let him double over in defeat.

"Put me down," she commanded.

In any other given situation, he might not have obeyed, but this time he did. If only because he, too, acknowledged his mortality in the situation. Neither could bear the burden entirely by themselves. To escape the heat and the smoke, they had to work together.

Clasping hands, Yomi pulled him along. "Come on, Shi-chan," she told him with a weary smile.

The two of them maneuvered through the burning wreckage and toward one of the few unobstructed exits of the warehouse. Just as they were inching closer and closer, moving side-by-side one another, Yomi heard the audible creak of the ceiling coming down on them. Her body moved faster than her mind and with limited strength, she managed to duck behind Shizuo and shove both hands against his back. It was enough to send him stumbling out of the way.

Fortunately it was not one of the rafters that came crumbling down on her but just a lone board. The flames on the object seared against the flesh of her forearm as she lifted it to protect her face. When the moment was over, she felt a wave of relief wash over her – ah, she did not die after all. But that should have been a disappointment instead of a relief.

Shizuo snatched her hand and forced her along with him. By now he was choking furiously and his feet were dragging. No doubt he would give her a reproachful glare once he had recovered enough, and he would probably admonish her.

That thought was almost comforting as the two arrived safely out of the proximity of danger. Clean air filtered through their lungs, although it was surely not enough to relieve of the damage of smoke inhalation. Shizuo looked about ready to collapse.

Almost as soon as they came out, a motorcycle came roaring up. Yomi was somewhat shocked as the woman in the form-fitting black suit that was riding it, whipped out a PDA that said, _"Hurry and get on. Both of you need to get to a hospital."_

Certainly it was probably not the most advisable way to get to a hospital but circumstances considered, they had little other choice. Being questioned by the police afterward did not sound very promising and that was what would happen if they took an actual ambulance.

All of the strength drained from Yomi's limbs and the sting of the burn on her arm left her grimacing in pain as she lurched toward the motorcycle. Shizuo caught her as she nearly toppled over, and he assisted her on mounting on behind Celty. He managed to climb in behind her, leaving their seating rather cramped, albeit necessarily so. Yomi might have fallen off, had she not been pressed firmly between two bodies. She leaned back against Shizuo's chest as the motorcycle suddenly sped away from the burning building they had just emerged from.

The surroundings turned into an indiscernible blur that coalesced into a blend of color. It made the nausea worse. Yomi could feel the contents of her stomach threatening to come up; probably a symptom of the smoke inhalation. Who knew what amount of damage it had caused to her lungs.

"Don't close your eyes," Shizuo commanded, his voice barely audible over the sound of the wind whipping around them. She could almost feel the warmth of his breath on the shell of her ear as her head rested in the nook of his arm.

"Yeah," she agreed hoarsely, unable to coherently form any other words.

For Shizuo, it had to be somewhat startling to see the same woman who used to smile airily at him while blurting out rage-inducing jabs and insults, suddenly reduced to such a helpless and vulnerable state. Those two words were surely never ones that had been used to describe Yomi before.

"Shi-chan," Yomi called out to him suddenly.

Although he wanted to caution her to save the strength she was using to speak, Shizuo thought that perhaps talking would be enough to coax her out of falling unconscious. At least until they got to the hospital, he wanted to keep her cognizant. Perhaps he feared that if she closed her eyes, she might never open them again.

Yomi thought that her lips felt like rubber and her tongue like sandpaper. It made it difficult to form words, particularly when her throat was parched. But she managed to mumble out her gratitude. "...thank you."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Omg, a chapter I am happy with, miracles do exist! I don't know what this sudden wave of writer inspiration is but I like it and hope it keeps coming. If so, I may be updating this story again this month. (No promises.) Although frankly, it's only been like a week since I posted the last chapter. When is the last time I updated this frequently?

Anyways, hope you enjoyed. Thanks so much for the reviews. w Always makes my day when I get one.

&& the poll was almost completely split between Izaya and Shizuo so apparently there isn't specifically a strong preference for either one? That's going to make it interesting, I guess, since I really love both characters so much I don't really have a preference either. Well, you guys can continue giving your opinion in the reviews as to who you think it should be. I will be contemplating it in the meantime. ._.


	14. Trick Play

**Chapter 14 – Trick Play**

There was something utterly loathsome about hospitals. It probably had to do with the smell, the general lack of color. Either way, Yomi had never had the patience to be an obedient subject that willingly stayed in her bed. And so the moment she opened her eyes to discover where she was at, her mind was immediately racing to decide how best to escape.

"Ah-ah," a familiar voice chided, "You shouldn't be so hasty. If you sit up that fast, you might give yourself a headache~"

As though that even mattered – her head was already experiencing a fierce throbbing that left her struggling just to sit up in the first place. Yomi's focus centered on the owner of the voice and with some surprise she mumbled, "Ah. Uzaya-chan, so you're here, huh?"

Those lips of his were curled up but there was nothing benevolent or kind about his smile. It was just another indication that he was already scheming something. Any other person would have been unsettled but Yomi just stared blankly back at him as he addressed her. "That was a really dangerous stunt you pulled. Lucky for you that Shizu-chan was so willing to burst into a burning building to save you, hm?"

"Lucky?" she echoed back. Her voice sounded strangely hollow. It was quite clear that she did not consider herself in any form fortunate that Shizuo had rescued her. Although a part of her felt some measure of gratitude, the rest of her was left filling empty. Yes, she was alive but for what purpose? What was there to live for? That was what she struggled with.

And as though he could read her mind, Izaya guessed this. "You wish he had never come, hm? Wish that you could have been left in there. Would that ease your guilt, Yomi-chan? Would you feel better about everything you have done to get this far if you had only died?"

She shot him back a glare.

"Hm? Angry that I'm right?" he challenged. When he received no answer, he continued. "But see, I am not so easily fooled as to think that you have a conscience about the people you hurt to get this far. I think there is something else here, Yomi-chan. Something that you haven't told anyone – that you don't want anyone to know about."

In a split second, the girl who had moments ago been lying complacently in her bed seemed to snap. She shot across the railing of her bed, her hands reaching for Izaya's throat as he sat motionlessly on the bed beside her. Having prepared for this reaction, however, he immediately dodged by slipping just out of her grasp while the IV drip that was hooked into Yomi's arm was suddenly ripped out. Yet while blood came trickling across the white blanket covering her, she did not cry out. Instead her brows were furrowed, her eyes half-lidded – glaring at the person who had managed to escape her. Her lips had pulled back to reveal her teeth, gritted together in frustration.

"I... will kill you," she warned him in a hiss, completely betraying the calm disposition she had just moments ago.

"Oh? Will you?" he responded in turn, clearly unimpressed. "See, I have no doubts that you would kill me if you could. But why kill me when there is someone else out there that I am certain you want to kill much more?"

This suggestion left her regarding him quizzically. "What are you talking about?"

"Hm? Hadn't you considered it before?" Seeing that his seat was safe once more now that she had leaned back in the bed, Izaya settled back down before explaining. "The whole reason that your precious Hiro-chan got into that accident was because someone leaked him some information he should not have had in the first place. Isn't that right? So, technically, aren't they the ones at fault? Aren't they the one you should be blaming?"

This seemed to completely shock Yomi. While she was usually so prepared for Izaya's mind games and maintained a steady facade, all of that had crumbled. She revealed her surprise immediately and did not even bother attempting to mask it. "That's right," she whispered back as the realization occurred to her. This whole time she had been so preoccupied chasing the people who had more directly affected her and Hiro without considering the source of the problem.

Beyond her own shock at this revelation, Yomi could not see that her entire reaction was going along completely according to Izaya's calculation. But of course he gave no hint to suggest that she was playing into his hand. Instead he gave the impression that she had come up with the idea herself and he had merely supported it.

"Since you're an informant, you should know something, right?" Yomi asked. "Such as where I should start looking for this person."

He stroked his chin thoughtfully, the ring on his finger creating a reflective glare that made that contemplative look of his only appear more sinister. "Hm, I think I could find something out. But what will you give me in return?"

Yomi clicked her tongue in annoyance. Of course – she should have expected as much. How foolish of her to play along without considering that he would only bring this up in the first place for his own benefit. "What do you want?" she asked impatiently.

Instead of answering, he just shrugged. "Who knows? You already owe me and you intended to die without repaying that debt. So this time you can figure out something. Until you can bring me something of interest, I'm not going to tell you anything. Good luck, Yomi-chan." Having finished his business, Izaya abruptly stood and started toward the door. Before leaving entirely, however, he paused. "Ah, that's right... Shizu-chan is in this hospital, too. It's too bad – if he had died in the fire, I wouldn't mind giving you whatever information you wanted free of charge."

That suggestion did not go unnoticed on Yomi's part. Clearly he was hinting that he wanted something "unfortunate" to happen to Shizuo in return for information. Yet the fact that it was not explicitly stated gave Yomi the hope that he would accept some other form of payment. The idea of something happening to Shizuo made her feel nauseous, although she was not entirely sure as to why that was.

Despite the pounding in her head and the blood still oozing out of her arm, Yomi tossed her blanket aside and eased herself off the bed. Her bare feet pressed against the floor and she found herself a little dizzy as she attempted to stand. No matter, she thought, because checking on Shizuo was more important than how steady she was as she walked.

Her body lurched forward and she quite literally stumbled the whole way to the door. A little worse off than she would have initially thought. No matter – she could navigate easily enough. Shizuo's room could not be far. With that thought in mind, she peeked from room to room in hopes of getting a glimpse of that unruly blonde hair.

"Hm, nope, not here," she muttered to herself as she peeked into a room where an elderly old man was visiting merrily with his family. Their conversation was interrupted by her arrival but her departure was quick enough to avoid their probing, incredulous stares.

It seemed as though she had peered into every room down the hallway before she finally arrived at his door. And when she had found him, he was not by himself but with a woman in a form-fitting black suit and yellow helmet.

_"Hello," _the woman greeted by flashing a bright-screened PDA in Yomi's direction.

There was obviously something off about the woman, though Yomi could not entirely put her finger on exactly what it was. Like a curious puppy, she tilted her head from side to side as she stared blankly at the black visor covering the other person's face from view. Yet within, Yomi could not even see a silhouette of a face.

"Go back to your room," Shizuo said gruffly.

Yomi's attention was immediately drawn to him and she grinned. "Aw, Shi-chan, no reason to get so angry at me. I just wanted to come see how you are. You know, I don't much care for hospitals so I have no intention of staying here."

He stared back at her before averting his eyes.

_"Shizuo doesn't like hospitals, either,"_ the strange woman informed.

"I don't think you're a nurse," Yomi stated suddenly as her gaze was drawn back to the woman. "Nope. You aren't wearing white. And nurses don't drive motorcycles, I think. So that must mean... you're part of a motorcycle gang!"

While Shizuo let out an audible sigh, the woman – who Yomi was sure really was part of a motorcycle gang – was hastily typing something out on the face of her PDA. _"No,"_ she quickly told Yomi. _"My name is Celty Sturluson."_

"Okay. I understand," Yomi responded with a grave nod. "You don't want people to know that you are affiliated with them. But you aren't doing a very good job of hiding it if you're cruising around on that motorcycle in black, you know."

_"No, I –"_

"Explaining is pointless," Shizuo pointed out. Obviously he had experienced these antics before first-hand. If Yomi had settled on Celty being a member of some motorcycle gang, no amount of telling her otherwise would be convincing enough.

_"Alright,"_ Celty conceded with some hesitancy.

Having that out of the way, Yomi directed her attention back toward Shizuo. "No permanent damage, right?"

_"You both got out relatively unscathed."_

"Your arm?" Shizuo prompted in dissent of Celty's assertion.

At the mention, Yomi peered down at her arm – remembering how she had used it to deflect that burning board. A bandage now covered the area. It had looked pretty gruesome when she had managed a glimpse at it before falling unconscious on the motorcycle. Although some medicine had probably been applied to it, she was certain that her skin was probably marred in blisters from the contact. Yomi was not a doctor, however, and so even if she removed the bandage in hopes of assessing the damage it would have proven pointless.

"It doesn't hurt," Yomi responded finally. That was not entirely true but not necessarily a lie; there was a light tingling running across her skin. She could, at the very least, tell that some ointment had been applied. And whatever it was, it had managed to alleviate most of the pain and heat.

_"Did you just get up?"_

"Oh. No, I was up for a few. I had a visitor."

This earned a look of suspicion from Shizuo as Celty asked the question that was no doubt nagging at the back of his mind. _"A visitor?"_

"Yeah, Uzaya-chan came to see how I was doing."

"I-za-ya is... here?" Shizuo growled out through gritted teeth as he slowly crawled out of bed and proceeded to traipse toward the door.

_"Shizuo! Wait! You are wearing a hospital gown! Don't –"_ Celty seemed in a panic as she hurried to type out those words, chasing the blonde down to try to dissuade him from leaving. Certainly the last thing they needed was a confrontation between Shizuo and Izaya in a hospital.

It was Yomi, ultimately, that managed to easily stop Shizuo who was marching full throttle toward the door to chase Izaya down. She skipped over to him and immediately threw her arms around him. It left Celty in shock and Shizuo frozen solid, considering both of them were wearing particularly thin fabric that left each partially exposed behind. Fortunately the area of contact during their one-sided embrace was done face-to-face.

"Ah, Shi-chan, it always feels really nice to hug you," Yomi confided with a pleasant smile as she peered up at him.

Her body was definitely pressed too close. Even if Shizuo wrote Yomi off as an eccentric annoyance, he could not help but notice how warm and soft she was. No – no, that had to be some pain medication working through his system or something. He needed to just push her away and take a deep breath. But he felt like a statue.

Fortunately Celty had enough sense to make up for the two blockheads in front of her. She stowed her PDA away and peeled Yomi off of Shizuo, grabbing the girl by her shoulders and hauling her toward the door.

"Huh? Where are we going? I wanted to be with Shi-chan some more~"

The sound of Yomi's voice was abruptly cut off as the door slammed behind the two women, leaving the blonde to himself. Strangely enough, he could feel his cheeks burning – strange. It was not a sensation he could recall experiencing much before.

Out in the hallway, Yomi was giving Celty a pouting glare. "You're not being very fair. You aren't Shi-chan's girlfriend or something, are you? Or... are you jealous? But I don't really want to have to share Shi-chan with anyone. This is frustrating."

_"I'm not his girlfriend!"_ Although the words were only written on the screen of a PDA, it conveyed Celty's annoyance quite clearly at the suggestion. _"You said you don't want to stay here. Go back to your room and I will get you clothing."_

"Aw, okay. But first, Celty-chan, you did take my gun out so they didn't confiscate it... right? Right? 'Cause it would be a real pain to have to get another one."

Celty was not entirely sure that someone as unstable as Yomi should have a gun to begin. _"Yes, I took it out of your jacket so they wouldn't notice."_ Perhaps it would have been better to lie and say that it had been taken.

But Yomi's eyes lit up in relief. "Really? Wow, Celty-chan. You're pretty great, aren't you? Well, if you say I should wait patiently in my room I guess I have to~" Given how jovial she was being and the compliments she was laying on Celty, it made it difficult to be too annoyed with Yomi.

Having established this agreement, Yomi obediently returned to her room where she waited rather impatiently until the headless woman returned – as promised – with clothing. It was certainly not what Yomi had been wearing when she had been brought to the hospital. No doubt those clothes had been singed and stunk of smoke. Most likely the jacket and shirt had been toasted badly enough to make them unrepairable.

The clothes that Celty had given her were casual – and unlike what she usually wore, color coordinated. It actually made someone as odd as Yomi look rather normal. Aside from her hair, which was matted and disheveled. Her skin, too, was covered in soot, making her look rather unkempt.

"Shi-chan is going to get dressed too so we can leave together, right?"

_"Yeah, Shinra brought him some clothes, too."_

"Shinra," she echoed, baffled by the familiarity of that name. She had heard it before. And, come to think of it, she had heard Celty's name spoken before, too. Although this was the first time that the two of them had interacted much. Then something clicked in her head. "Ah! You mean Doctor-chan. That's right. I remember him. You guys are the ones that followed Shi-chan and I when we went on a date, right?"

The fact that the dark-haired girl had so clearly recalled that event left Celty hesitant to confirm but she finally responded with a vague, _"Yeah. That was us."_

Yomi was not the least bit put off by this information. She only smiled pleasantly at Celty before making toward the door. This time her feet were covered – her shoes, at least, had been the one thing salvaged from what she had been wearing when she had been brought to the hospital.

The four regrouped in Shizuo's hospital room, where the blonde had resumed his usual attire – a bartender outfit. Yomi could scarcely have identified him in any other clothing. She had grown too accustomed to seeing him this way.

And the moment that she and Celty entered, she was flying across the floor and throwing her arms around Shizuo. "Shi-chan!" she declared gleefully as she nuzzled her face against his chest. The display of affection had him averting his eyes and scratching at the side of his face, unsure how to respond.

"Good to see you are both so lively," Shinra commented with a chuckle.

_"It seems that 'lively' is an understatement,"_ Celty interjected dryly.

"Ah, maybe I should –"

As though reading his mind, Celty held out her hand to catch Shinra's face as he started to approach her. She could already tell what was on his mind. Considering how big of an oddball he was, Yomi's influence was certainly not helping.

"Aw, puu dun harta ber sar curld."

Celty shoved him away rather roughly after he mumbled against the palm of her hand, words too stifled to be discernible. _"Anyways, we should get going. No point in lingering here too long. The doctors wanted to ask me all sorts of questions when I brought the two of you here, anyways. Doesn't help that your burn injuries coincided with that warehouse burning down."_

"Yeah," Shizuo agreed quietly before glancing down at Yomi. "And you."

She peered up at him innocently, "Hm?"

"Let's go." Rather than reciprocating the embrace, he placed a heavy hand on her head that prompted her to release him. However, as much as he might have liked to break any association with her on their way out of the hospital, Yomi had managed to grab onto his hand. Even his reluctance was not enough to dissuade her.

By all rights they were the most conspicuous looking couple – a tall man with bleached-blonde hair in a bartender suit whose face was set in a permanent scowl, and whose hand was linked to a woman almost half his height who was skipping along merrily while humming a tune.

_"I think we would have been better hiding them them in the dirty laundry to get them out unnoticed,"_ Celty confided, making sure that the screen of her PDA was visible only to Shinra who was walking beside her with a countenance similar to Yomi's.

Regardless of how suspicious their entourage was, they escaped unquestioned to the bottom floor. Once they had strayed from the main path and returned to where Celty's motorcycle was parked, the four finally stopped.

It was then that Yomi released her hold on Shizuo's hand, albeit only because Celty was returning her gun to her. "Thanks, Celty-chan," Yomi chirped happily. However, she soon found that her new clothing afforded her no pockets or folds in which she could hide her weapon. Frowning, Yomi put the safety lock on. "I guess I'll just have to put it here," she sighed.

The three others standing around her froze as she suddenly grabbed the collar of her shirt and stretched it out, slowly tucking the gun inside. And while it worked well enough that it was not visible, there was a strange outline in her chest that suggested she was carrying something suspicious.

_"I... don't think you should put that there,"_ Celty told her in exasperation.

"Haha!" Shinra chortled. "How ingenious!"

"Take it out," Shizuo muttered quietly with a sigh.

Frowning, Yomi obediently did as was suggested. "I don't know where to put it then, Shi-chan."

He snatched it from her and eyed the weapon with some apprehension. "Why do you have this?" No doubt the question that was on all of their minds.

Rather than play it off, Yomi answered him seriously. "I think you probably figured all of that out by now, Shi-chan. You know why I was at that warehouse, don't you? For Hiro-chan. To get revenge."

_"Haven't you accomplished that now?" _Celty ventured.

"I didn't kill anyone, if that's what you're asking."

That seemed to relax some of the tension in the air. But Shizuo still kept a firm grip on the weapon. "You don't need it," he declared.

_"That's right,"_ Celty added in agreement.

Suddenly Yomi became listless as the two attempted to encourage her to drop her mission. "You don't understand," she told them accusingly in a voice that hinted at the pain lying beneath the facade. "There is no meaning to my life without Hiro. If I don't have revenge, then I don't have anything. That gun doesn't belong to me. It's Hiro-chan's. It's a reminder of why I'm here. I have nothing else."

Perhaps that was a line of reasoning that the two men present could not entirely follow, but Celty could sympathize on some level. For her, finding her head had become her entire purpose. She had come all the way to Japan solely for that. The reason why she stayed? Maybe it had something to do with Shinra – but ultimately, the loss of her head had left a gaping void that nothing else seemed capable of filling. She wanted it – needed it – to know who she was, to feel whole. For that reason, she could not contest what Yomi was saying.

Shizuo's feelings, however, were much more in line with Shinra's. And while he had not expressed them up to this point, he found the words coming out without his permission. "What about me?" He said it in an even tone that did little to show his disappointment that Yomi did not even consider him in her explanation.

However, having heard that, Yomi gave it some consideration. For a moment she was pensive but then she shook her head. "Does it matter if Shi-chan makes me happy?" Suddenly she was deflecting the question entirely. "Actually, you are pretty annoyed by me when I'm around, aren't you?" She gave a sad smile that suggested she was not as ignorant as she made herself appear.

"I–" he started to say.

"What? Are you going to tell me that you like me, Shi-chan?" It was the first time he had ever seen her like this and it shocked him into silence. "It would be pretty funny if you said something like that. Honestly, I don't know why you bothered saving me. That was pretty stupid. You don't even really know me."

His eyes were set wide in surprise at this assertion. Was this the Yomi that had persistently chased him with unrivaled fervor, that had wriggled into his heart when he had tried his best to keep distance from her? Why had she gone to such lengths only now to declare that anything between the two of them was useless?

"You don't have to look so surprised. Well, I am thankful – I still have something I still need to do in Ikebukuro before I die. But maybe it's better if we stop the lie here, Shi-chan. The truth is, if you really knew me, you would hate me."

"Why?" he asked without thinking.

The expression on her face completely belied the next words that came out of her mouth. "Because even I hate me."

Up until this point, both Shinra and Celty had kept their silence. While the doctor seemed to have no intention of interrupting their heated conversation, Celty wanted to try and calm the two of them before things escalated any further. Jerking herself out of her stunned state, she quickly typed on her PDA, but before she could finish, Yomi had wrenched the gun out of Shizuo's hand.

"Well, I'm sorry. In the end it was a waste of your time to come into that building to save me." She was still smiling as she said that. "I really do like you, Shi-chan. You are a really great person. Celty-chan and Doctor-chan, too. So for that reason, stay away from me from now on." Leaving the trio behind to soak up those words, she bumped into Shizuo's side as she left. The backs of their hands grazed and this was the last of their contact as Yomi marched around the street corner.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Yomi paused, her gaze not leaving the ground. "I know you think you are really sneaky, Uzaya-chan, but I knew you were listening the whole time."

"Oh?" Mildly impressed by how perceptive she was, he stepped into her line of sight from behind a telephone pole just a few feet in front of where Yomi was still standing. "That was quite the speech you gave. I would give it a seven out of ten. Needed a little more emotion in the presentation."

She regarded him with an unamused look. "You were waiting here to take me back, right? I can stay at your office still, can't I?"

"Certainly!" he chimed back with an accommodating grin.

The two walked side-by-side, Yomi carrying the gun out of sight, as they headed for the station.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So I know I said I'd update before the month would end but I didn't expect it would be this soon. Well, hopefully this makes up for how slow I have been with updates in the past. I will be updating again in a week. Past that, hopefully I can continue to update as steadily but I usually jinx myself when I say that.

Again thanks so much for the reviews. You guys are awesome!


	15. Captured King

**Chapter 15 – Captured King**

"They say if you keep your face like that long enough, it will end up stuck that way."

Yomi had been gazing listlessly out the large window in Izaya's office, a pensive look on her face as she silently watched the rain fall. Her breath had managed to fog up a decent portion and in her boredom she had begun to trace strange shapes. Such actions might have earned the informant's attention, had he not been out doing "work." In the meantime, Yomi was left a reluctant Namie as company.

"They say that, huh?" Yomi muttered back with disinterest. She did not even bother to turn around and gaze upon the person addressing her. Since her conversation with Shizuo and the entire ordeal at the warehouse, she had grown rather lethargic – lazing about the office without really engaging even the people therein. Izaya did not seem particularly concerned but Namie, on the other hand, preferred the old Yomi.

"Somehow you're more of a distraction when you aren't going off at the mouth," the secretary mumbled in contempt.

Yomi largely ignored such commentary. Her mind was weighted down by various things; Shizuo was certainly prominent among them. But another, more immediate concern had her almost completely preoccupied. While it was probably a longshot, she figured asking Namie might prove helpful. "Say, Namie-chan..."

Peering over the edge of her laptop, Namie responded with a grunt, "Hm?"

"What do you give someone when you owe them and they don't like money?"

Perhaps feeling a bit impish given the opportunity that was presenting itself, Namie smirked – but quickly resumed composure so as not to alert Yomi. "You're talking about Izaya again, aren't you?" She had to clarify to be sure.

"Just answer the question," Yomi quipped impatiently with a frown.

"Context is important. But in that case, maybe you could try using your body."

Whether that answer was meant the way it was received was irrelevant. The moment Yomi heard those words, she snapped her fingers. "Ah! Why didn't I think of that...? Of course. That will work." Although it had not completely roused her from the pits of despair she seemed to be wallowing in, had done something to be able to coax a smile out of her.

Either way, Namie was glad that her suggestion was well-received. Maybe Izaya would consent to sending Yomi out on some tasks to get her out of the office and perk her up enough where at least she didn't act as a Debbie Downer whenever she was around. Working as an errand girl was what Namie had been insinuating by her comment to begin with.

But, as it turned out... that was not quite what Yomi got out of it.

As luck would have it, that exact moment the door swung open and in came Izaya. He was wearing his usual cat-like smirk as he moved to occupy the seat at his desk. As soon as he set down, droplets of water were scattered everywhere – having collected on his coat. "The weather seems to be cooperating with your mood, Yomi-chan. You sure you don't want to go dancing out there?"

"Hm. No, I can't. I don't have a change of clothes."

Face hidden behind her laptop, Namie slowly shook her head while mumbling, "Clearly that isn't the issue."

Izaya, however, was amused by the response and let out a hearty chuckle. "That's right," he agreed, peering over at where Namie was sitting. "Maybe Namie-san could lend you some of her clothes again. She has a penchant for oddities; maybe she has some more costumes for you to dress in."

"Oh, that might be kind of fun," Yomi nodded in agreement.

Namie was tempted to flip Izaya the bird but resisted, gritting her teeth as she proceeded with her secretarial duties. Better to ignore the two elephants in the room than to pay them any heed, she thought. Reacting would only give Izaya more cause to take jabs at her.

"Ah, that's right – I finally came up with something."

This piqued his interest. "Hm? Came up with what?"

"You said that I have to discover my own way to pay you for information, right?" Yomi grinned at him. But it was not as reassuring as she intended it to be. "Well, I talked to Namie-chan and I came up with a way to adequately compensate you."

The mention of Namie immediately had him guessing that this would probably be a bad idea or some kind of joke. Clicking his tongue, Izaya reached for the mug on his table to take a drink. It was only luke warm – not piping hot as it had been when he had left it. But he didn't mind.

However, just as he was tipping the cup to his lips, Yomi declared, "I'll sleep with you, Uzaya-chan."

Even Izaya had not anticipated that kind of "payment." The coffee tasted so strangely bitter, coupled with his surprise, that he choked and spewed it. The liquid ended up dribbling down his chin and all across the front of his shirt. Certainly good that it was not fresh, lest he have sustained serious burns. Cursing under his breath, he set the cup aside.

"Hm? Were you that excited that you couldn't even swallow?"

Sitting at her laptop, Namie had both hands covering her face in a sort of double facepalm. "That was not at all what I suggested," she mumbled with a hint of amusement in her voice.

Izaya, on the other hand, was not laughing. Rather, he had a brow quirked as he looked between the two women in his office. "Yomi-chan, whatever gave you the idea that sleeping with me would be 'adequate payment' for information?"

Confused at his lack of enthusiasm in response to her declaration, Yomi tilted her head to the side. "What? Is there something wrong with that? People sleep with other people every day to recompense. Oh, I get it. You must be embarrassed. It's okay, I'm the one who made the suggestion."

"I think you are misunderstanding something," he said with unspoken annoyance.

"That's for sure," Namie agreed under her breath, not wanting to actually speak loud enough to insert herself into the conversation.

"That is," Izaya clarified, "I have no interest in sleeping with anyone. How does that benefit me?"

The question posed was thought-provoking enough, even though it should have been instantly obvious – at least to Izaya and Namie. Yomi, on the other hand, was left tapping her chin while contemplating. "Hm, I guess that makes sense. I guess you aren't that kind of pervert, after all."

Namie felt somewhat gleeful that Yomi had added in that little jab at the end. From behind her laptop, she was nodding in agreement at the pervert part.

"But does that mean you won't accept that as payment?" she asked, as though it were not already obvious enough.

However, much to the surprise of Namie, Izaya actually said, "I didn't say I wouldn't." Her jaw quite literally dropped at that – was he seriously considering...? But hadn't he just said...? She could scarcely focus on the paperwork she was trying to complete. Curiosity getting the better of her, she found herself peeking over at the two people at the far side of the room who appeared to be staring at each other.

"Oh... good!" Yomi sighed in relief. "For a minute there I thought you would say no and then I wouldn't know how I was supposed to pay you back, Uzaya-chan. At least this will be easy. So can you give me the information then?"

There was a pause of consideration on the informant's part. "Yomi-chan, tell me... do you really know what it means to 'sleep' with someone?"

Even Namie had a moment where she suspected that the dark-haired girl was far too naive to understand. But contrary to their expectations, Yomi announced, "Of course I know what sex is. Do you think I have been living under a rock?" Obviously yes, they did. "Or didn't you understand that was what I meant, Uzaya-chan?"

"Mm, only clarifying," he responded as he caught Namie's gaze, which elicited a grin. "Namie-san, my coffee is getting kind of cold..."

"Get it yourself," she grumbled as she returned to her work. "Or better yet, admit that you are only pulling her leg and have her get you coffee as payment for whatever information you have."

"I am not 'pulling her leg.' If Yomi-chan wants to offer something like that, I should at least give it consideration, right?" More likely he was just getting enjoyment from watching Namie squirm from the overt mention of sexual relations between himself and someone else. No doubt it conjured a visual that left her with an urge to vomit.

Oblivious to the amusement that was being had at her expense, Yomi stood up and walked over to Izaya's desk, taking his mug in her hand. "I don't mind making you coffee, Uzaya-chan. It will be like I am taking care of Shi-chan again." Cheerfully, she headed for the kitchen, leaving the two snarky individuals behind.

"Compared to Shizuo, hm? That must burn for you."

Even Izaya could not hide his annoyance as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. Something about Yomi's hang up on Shizuo greatly displeased him. Perhaps it was because of their rivalry. He tried to pass it off as though it was just the mention of the blonde that perturbed him. In reality, it was most likely a combination of the two. And maybe something else, too.

When Yomi returned, it was with two steaming mugs instead of one. She immediately beelined for Izaya's desk where she set one down, flashing him a smile. "Here you go!" Then she turned and delivered the other to Namie, who expressed surprised appreciation.

Rather than take a drink immediately, Izaya remained sitting motionlessly – just staring at the cup with an empty gaze.

"What? Do you think I poisoned it?" Yomi ventured after noticing that he had not touched it. By the time he looked up, she had already returned to her seat by the window. "Namie-chan already took a sip. And she didn't look like she was disgusted. She definitely isn't dead. You can drink it, Uzaya-chan, go ahead."

What was with that excessive prompting? He frowned as he reached for the mug. A couple of sips later and he found that the taste was actually pleasant enough. Ironic, considering he would have pegged Yomi for someone incapable of doing even the most simple things – including making coffee.

As though she had read his thoughts, she commented, "I can do a whole tea ceremony, you know. I could show you sometime if you want!"

"Tea ceremony?" Namie echoed with some measure of interest. It was rare that her curiosity was ever piqued.

Yomi nodded vigorously as she used her hands to give a simulation, sitting up rigidly straight as she did so. "Yeah, I learned when I was a kid. It's actually really boring and stiff. My father always said it was important to know, though, and that it was a form of art or something." The vague way she recounted the tale gave the impression that she did not think too fondly on her father.

This, however, proved the perfect opportunity for Izaya to weasel some information out of her. "Why would it be important for you to know the tea ceremony, Yomi-chan?"

As though catching herself in leaking information she would rather he not know, she pursed her lips and sat back against the window. "No particular reason. If you want to know things like that, then maybe you should give me the information that I want, Uzaya-chan."

"Alright," he conceded as he booted up his PC. It was time for him to peruse forums and visit his usual chat rooms. No doubt Tanaka Taro and Setton would be there to listen to the latest news he had – which, in Izaya's opinion, was not particularly interesting. Since everything had died down with Yomi, there was little between Ikebukuro and Shinjuku to hold his interest. But his newest plan was beginning to take shape.

The chatter that had been keeping the office unusually lively died down rather quickly as the two that belonged there resumed their usual routine. The outsider – Yomi – was left sitting, gazing out at Shinjuku as wind and rain swept over it. And in the back of her mind, she could not help wondering what a certain blonde was up to.

—

No matter the weather, there were some jobs that required dedication regardless. And Shizuo's happened to be one of them. The flimsy umbrella that Tom had been using to try to cover the both of them proved primarily useless. Half of his body had already become soaked and even though his flesh was chilled, Shizuo maintained his deadpan expression.

He had been uncharacteristically despondent the entire day, however. Tom had made a comment on it but Shizuo was quick to deflect it. Although he had been offered some vacation in lieu of his time in the hospital, he had insisted on immediately getting back on the job. Whatever it required to get his mind off of Yomi.

The words she had spoken to him struck a chord. He could not deny that he had taken little interest in her, that he had not treated her particularly well. In the back of his head, he made up as many excuses as he could for that. She was the one who had suddenly appeared and one-sidedly clung to him. Now she had just as quickly disappeared, leaving no trace – other than that he was sure she was still associated with Izaya.

In the few days that had passed since he had last seen Yomi, Shizuo was left with an ugly feeling. A gnawing in the pit of his stomach that left him almost nauseous. At first he had thought to attribute it to the smoke inhalation but that was growing increasingly unlikely.

"Shizuo."

Why was he constantly thinking about her? As though the images of that creepy smile she always flashed at him kept polluting his mind. Reappearing and multiplying uncontrollably. He loathed himself for perpetuating a pointless attachment to a person he apparently "didn't know very well" anyways.

"Shizuo."

It could not be that... he genuinely liked her? Had he been so foolish as to actually develop feelings for her?

"Oi, Shizuo."

Apparently someone had been calling him. Shizuo suddenly snapped to attention with a sluggish, "Huh?" Turning his head, he found that Tom was gazing at him expectantly.

"The guy doesn't want to pay up. Time to rough 'em up," Tom said grimly, motioning to the shop behind him with his thumb. "I'll wait out here for you to finish."

Ah, good. An opportunity for him to vent his frustrations. Shizuo did not waste any time in fulfilling his obligation – which included chucking a vending machine through a glass storefront. The damage itself was enough to bring the man traipsing out in his underwear, swearing like a sailor. Shizuo quickly cured that, too, however. He and Tom waltzed off soon thereafter with their money.

—

"I am out for the night. I will be back in the morning at the usual time." Namie had loaded up her laptop and was already heading for the door, umbrella held firmly in her hand. She always seemed composed – planning ahead in these situations. Yomi held some admiration for that.

Almost as soon as she was gone, however, there existed an even more lonely silence than before. Yomi found herself peering over at Izaya to see if he was as affected, but instead he seemed to be busily typing away without regard for the situation in his office. Far too absorbed in the world in the internet to care, she supposed.

"Hey, Izaya."

Too wrapped up in whatever he was doing, he just numbly responded with a, "Hm?" Apparently he had not even noticed the use of his actual name and the absence of an honorific.

Standing from the position she had been lazing about in for the past few hours, Yomi ventured over to his desk and peered over his shoulder. For a few moment, it seemed as though he would not notice her but then he turned toward her.

"It's not nice to read over people's shoulders," he glared reproachfully, giving her a supplementary flick to the forehead.

Yomi pouted as she rubbed the red spot left behind on her skin. "And it's not nice to ignore people who are trying to talk to you. What kind of mischief are you up to anyways? I'm booored~"

"Not my job to entertain you," he quipped.

Although he had a fair point, she would not concede it. Instead she frowned at him. "I know that. I am not ungrateful that you are letting me stay here, either, you know. But..." There was something strange in her eyes. Maybe it was just the way she gazed at him. It was not something he had ever seen from Yomi before.

Izaya found himself sighing in exasperation. "Well? Aren't you going to finish your sentence? Hm?"

Rather than answer him, her gaze switched to the empty mug residing at the corner of his desk. She immediately grabbed for it and sped toward the kitchen. "Never mind," Yomi called back at him. "I will get you some more coffee."

There was a side to Yomi that he had been experiencing since taking her in that did not align at all with the facade he was accustomed to seeing. Izaya could only guess that it was the real Yomi, the one hidden beneath layers of defenses aimed at keeping other people out. Time, exhaustion, and a false sense of security were slowly lulling her out of her shell.

Although the persona she used fascinated him, Izaya could admit that he was more interested in all that rested beneath the surface. Certainly she was far more complicated than he gave her credit for. Perhaps it was for that reason that, while she usually adhered to his predictions, she sometimes fell out of line of his calculations.

His thoughts about her were interrupted as there came the clang of porcelain breaking from the kitchen. Almost immediately he sat up and started for the source of the commotion, sighing beneath his breath. Perhaps he should have known that she would be clumsy.

When he arrived in the kitchen, he saw that his mug had smashed against the tile at Yomi's feet. But rather than clean it up, she was left standing there in a daze, just staring at it. Even as he approached, she did not even seem to hear his footsteps.

"Not going to clean it up?" His voice did, however, seem to break through whatever reverie had apparently consumed her.

With a surprised look, she peered up at him before returning her focus to the mess that she had unwittingly made. "Oh! Hm, that's strange. I guess I wasn't paying attention like I should have been." To mask whatever weakness might have otherwise shone through, she wore a grin as she bent down to gather the fragment porcelain with her hands.

Izaya immediately leaned down and grabbed her by the wrist. "If you use your hands, you will end up cutting yourself." Not that he particularly cared one way or the other. Why was he bothering to issue such a warning? He would have been better to just observe her and wait for a moment of weakness with which to exploit.

His comment, however, seemed to trigger something in Yomi. "You are actually kind of nice after all, huh, Uzaya-chan?" She had an unusually gentle gaze as she looked back up at him.

He clicked his tongue. "That has nothing to do with kindness. It was merely an observation." As though to revoke the warning, he released her wrist and stood straight. "If you want to cut your hands up then it's your choice. I suppose it might match the burn scar you are going to end up with on your arm."

At the mention of it, she glanced at the bandage. She still had not taken it off since leaving the hospital. The pain had increased because she had neglected to put ointment on it. Foolish, she knew, but it was something like retribution in her mind.

"The broom is over there," Izaya chimed in.

Rather than attend to the mess, she suddenly stood and turned toward Izaya. "Hey, Uzaya-chan, can I try something?"

He only stared at her without a clue as to what she was referring to. "Hm? Try what?"

Yomi's body lurched forward and her thin, dainty arms snaked around Izaya as she caught him in an embrace. Her face pressed against his chest, nuzzling gently as she took a quiet inhale. "Not quite the same," she lamented with a saddened tone.

Ordinarily he would have made some sort of jab at her; after all, the close contact was not particularly bothersome. He derived no pleasure from it but it did not particularly annoy him, either. But he did find himself curious as to who she was suddenly comparing him with. "What isn't quite the same?" he prompted with interest.

"You are kind of smaller. And you don't stink of cigarette smoke. It's just not the same." Her voice ached with a longing that she had never expressed in front of him before. And slowly Yomi was starting to peel herself away from him.

Izaya's hands immediately lifted and pressed against her back. Through his actions, he maintained their close proximity. "Are you comparing me to Shizu-chan?" he asked knowingly. Although his voice did not belie the feelings within him – there was something ugly twisting in the pit of his stomach. Gnarled like the branches of an ancient oak. He felt a disgust more intense than he ever had before.

Completely unaware as to his feelings, Yomi answered honestly. "Yeah. I used to hug Shi-chan all the time."

"Oh? Why were you clinging to Shizu-chan?" No, he was not asking because of these strange feelings that she was suddenly evoking. It was because he detested Shizuo. He did not want to be compared. He asked to better ascertain the real Yomi. Those were all the excuses he made for himself, true or otherwise.

Growing accustomed to their embrace, Yomi leaned her head against Izaya. Even though the two of them were not the same, unbeknownst to Izaya, even he could provide some comfort to her. Hugging was not something inherently enjoyable in and of itself. It was being close enough to feel another body, to know that she was still alive. A feeling that she had enjoyed frequently when Hiro was still alive. The two had been uncharacteristically affectionate siblings.

Thinking about Hiro left her aching and her arms tightened around Izaya. "I really like Shi-chan," she confessed. "I think hugging Shi-chan actually made me happy. It made me feel... feel like..." Her voice trailed off as she searched for the words.

Somehow Izaya found his pulse increasing – or was that Yomi's? "Feel like what?" Why was he asking? This was not showing him the "real" Yomi. This was merely drawing out the emotions she was locking away. He did not need to know about that. He could already tell without hearing it.

"I start to feel whole again. I don't feel half empty anymore. I think that maybe I–"

"Don't you think that is pretty pointless?" Izaya chided her. "You have your revenge to think of. Why bother thinking about Shizu-chan? You said yourself that he doesn't know you. What would he think if he knew? Think about it, Yomi-chan. I know you better than he does." Why was he saying that? Why?

"I know," she grumbled back. "Of course, I know that."

"Don't forget, Yomi-chan. You made a promise to me. You owe me."

Face still pressed against his chest, Yomi frowned against his shirt as she nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

* * *

**Author's Note: **So if you cannot already tell, I have pretty much decided that Yomi will end up with Shizuo. I am contemplating doing a spin-off one-shot near/at the end of RfN that has Yomi x Izaya, though, because I think there is an interesting dynamic between them and I enjoy the "love triangle." Hope those of you reading are okay with this decision and continue to enjoy the story. :D Another chapter will be posted in a week from now - 10/29.


	16. Turnaround

**Chapter 16 – Turnaround**

It had been a whole week since the incident at the warehouse. Yomi had, for the most part, loitered around the office. She certainly had not stepped foot outside in some time. It was rather strange for her when before she had meandered aimlessly through the streets. Yet now she seemed content to be cooped up. Izaya somehow preferred it this way – easier to keep tabs on her when she was not mindlessly touring the city.

Alas, as all good things come to an end, her interest in lying low waned rather quickly. Her impatience in waiting for him to gather necessary information had resulted in her being rather restless. Back and forth she had been pacing in front of the window. Soon enough, he feared, she would wear a hole in the floor. But then at last, whatever strand of patience she had seemed to snap, and she headed for the door without saying a word.

"Yomi-chan~" he called after her.

As though she could read his mind, she peeked over her shoulder and frowned. "I want to go see Shi-chan." It was the last thing he wanted to hear her say. "Sitting around here all day is boring. And Namie-san went home early, anyways."

"Oh ya? And here you said all of those hateful things to him. You still think he will want to see you?"

That reasoning did give her pause. The moment she revealed her uncertainty she had already conceded the win to Izaya. "Well... I know that. I know, but even if he doesn't want to see me I just want a glimpse. If I can just see him then I will feel better. I'll come back as soon as I see him."

Izaya's lips grew taut. "If that is as much resolve as you have, Yomi-chan, it will be difficult for you to avenge Hiro-chan. Aren't you wasting your time by associating with Shizu-chan? The more you cling to him, the more he will grow to hate you."

Her eyes widened. Those words were not just an attempt to coax her; it was as though Izaya could read her thoughts and see her fears. Being close to Izaya for so long – he had gradually managed to strip away the layers of her facade. The danger alarms were flaring in her mind. All the more reason for her to get away. "Then I won't see Shi-chan. I will go somewhere else. But it's stuffy in here. I have to go somewhere."

Although he seemed to listen thoughtfully, Izaya held no interest for her excuses. No matter what she said, they both knew she would head straight for Ikebukuro the moment she left the office. The silence that settled in the short interval after that delivery of words was filled only by the sound of Izaya's fingers drumming against the desk.

"Don't worry, Uzaya-chan, I will be back before–"

"Ah, that's right, Yomi-chan. The information that you wanted..." he started to say, interrupting her. A smirk had slowly surfaced on his face. Clearly he was going to use the position of power he had to sway her. "I did find out something you might like to know."

Although she was clearly disgruntled by the fact that he was trying to distract her from leaving, Yomi could not forsake an opportunity to get information. It was her only reason for living, after all. Anything that Izaya could provide, she had to have. Reluctantly she retraced her steps back to her spot by the window and took a seat. A resigned sigh passed her lips as she motioned for him to continue. "Out with it, Uzaya-chan."

"My, so impatient," he commented dryly. "If you want the information, I want immediate payment, Yomi-chan. Information about you."

"What do you want to know this time?" she asked glumly.

"You said that you know the tea ceremony. Why? For what purpose?" His eyes shone with interest as he leaned forward in his chair, focus turned completely toward Yomi.

She twirled a lock of black hair between her fingers as she considered the question and how best to respond. Yomi still retained her calculating edge that allowed her to, at times, one-up Izaya. Surely this had to be one of those times. Already he knew too much, and she could not risk him finding out much more – which was his entire intention. "You have to know the tea ceremony as a successor," she said vaguely. "Apparently it looks pretty good on your repertoire if your parents decide to marry you off to a prominent family." Although her voice sounded fairly light-hearted, there was something about the expression on Yomi's face that was telling enough.

"Then did your Hiro-chan also receive similar training?"

That question earned him a perturbed glare. "I already answered your questions. Let me hear what information you have first and see if it deserves more answers."

"You forget that you are still indebted to me, Yomi-chan. You will have to answer this question, too. If you want your information, that is." That triumphant grin of his spread further; he knew that she could not contest him on this.

Yomi grumbled in protest at first but proceeded to divulge what he wanted. "No, Hiro-chan never received that kind of training."

That information started the turning of gears in Izaya's mind as he started putting the pieces together. "Interesting," he commented with nod. "But is that not strange, Yomi-chan? You are telling me that as twins, he was not put in the position to be a successor but you were. He received no training whereas you were forced to learn the tea ceremony. Curious, is it not? It almost sounds as though the two of you... did not grow up together." His eyes studied her reaction for confirmation of his inference.

But she kept a poker face on. "Well, I told you what you wanted. So come on, Uzaya-chan. Don't be stingy. Gimme what you got."

What a pity. While she had grown easier to read, it was still impossible to completely infiltrate that facade at times. Izaya leaned back and reached for a folder on his desk, tossing it over in Yomi's general direction. "There you go." He had been holding onto it, apparently – perhaps debating whether or not to deliver it.

"If you had it all this time, you should have said so," she growled in dismay as she reached for it where it landed just in front of her. Shuffling through the sheaf of papers, she found pictures of four different men.

"Informants in the area," Izaya explained. "They would have had access to the information that harmed your Hiro-chan."

"This is as far as you could narrow it down? Not to just one face? What am I supposed to do, Uzaya-chan? Kill them all?" Yomi frowned.

"It is not my revenge," he countered, "If you want to know who it is, you will have to narrow it down. Do some investigative work of your own. You can do that, can't you, Yomi-chan? It will keep you more than preoccupied enough that you won't have to linger on Shizu-chan anymore."

Ah, so that was the entire purpose of giving this to her. He just wanted to distract her from Shizuo. Not that Yomi could make any qualms. She had the information that she wanted. All she had to do was get started by sniffing out each and every one of them. A process of elimination – and if she was lucky, the first one might be the right one. She tapped her chin thoughtfully with the envelope. "After all of this is done, I can die... right?"

That question earned her a disapproving look. "Not until I say so. Is that not what you agreed to?"

"I get the feeling you are trying to make me one of your pawns, Uzaya-chan. And I don't really like the idea of that very much. Well, I guess as long as you find a super interesting way for me to die then I can't complain."

As he turned his gaze back to his computer screen, he could only smirk. She had no idea the plan that had emerged in his mind some time ago. Certainly she would come to regret making that agreement, moreover would she lament thinking that dying when he said so would be alright if it was "super interesting." For the only person whose interest would be served when her time came would be Izaya's.

Yomi spent the next half hour perusing the papers that Izaya had given her. Although she appeared the type of person with no plan in mind, behaving on a whim, she turned out to be surprisingly calculative. Certainly the impression she gave was entirely different from the real person that lay beneath the surface. This explained why she was capable of piquing the interest of someone like Izaya.

By the time the sun started setting, the informant was turning off his computer and shutting down the lights in the office. Time for some rest before the next day. Setting up his next grand scheme had left life rather dull in the meantime. He yawned to himself as he reached for the empty mug on his desk. An overload of caffeine earlier had left him feeling surprisingly drowsy.

"Hey, Uzaya-chan... what is today?"

"Hm?" He paused to consider before telling her.

Yomi seemed to disregard what he said. "That's not what I meant." She peered outside until she located the moon hanging in the sky – or rather the absence of it.

Izaya followed her gaze. "Ah, you mean the new moon."

"Hey, tonight, let me sleep with you." She said it so offhandedly that it almost seemed like she was casually asking him for a favor.

"No," was the immediate answer that came out, as though he had prepared for the question beforehand. Yet after it was spoken, he seemed to pause for a moment – as though it required some evaluation. Was there anything that could be gained by having her sleep in close proximity? No, it seemed more likely to be disruptive and hectic. Too much of a hassle. And he took no pleasure in having to share a mattress with another body.

Shuffling the papers, Yomi returned them to the folder before standing. "I figured you would say that." She seemed to smile sadly – odd for someone who had been attempting to fool him with so much effort earlier. Again that facade was faltering and revealing to him the true person underneath.

He could not deny his intrigue, however. Why had she suddenly asked something so absurd? "Ah, how about this, Yomi-chan. I will assent if you provide the reason for your sudden request." Again he was just trying to weasel more information out of her. His reasoning was logical enough; if she refused to tell then whatever the reason was, it was not pertinent enough to have earned his interest in the first place. But he suspected she would not have posed the question had she not been serious enough about it.

"How sneaky," she remarked sullenly. "But I guess I have no choice."

No choice? That seemed like a peculiar way of looking at it. From his position, it seemed that a steadfast refusal would have been just as easy.

"You see, Uzaya-chan... I don't sleep so well most nights. Plus your couch is awfully uncomfortable~ I figure if I at least fall asleep looking at your annoying face, then I will have better dreams than I usually do." It was not a reasoning he could follow and quite obviously a lie. Still, there was a hint of nervousness in her voice that led him to believe that her reasoning was desperate enough to warrant consideration.

She probably would not take too well to further demands, even if he did call out her blatant lie. No matter – he suspected little harm could come out of allowing her to sleep beside him. Maybe observing her in her sleep would prove fruitful.

"Alright," he said finally. "But if you make too much noise, I might shove you onto the floor."

"How cold~"

It was not long after that they were both situated on the oversized mattress that Izaya typically enjoyed by himself. Sharing it with someone else was not something he would have ever considered, moreover someone like Yomi. In the interest of information gathering, he supposed he had to sacrifice something. His blanket was not one of those things.

"I don't really think it was necessary for us each to have our own blankets, Uzaya-chan," she pouted.

He ignored her as he rolled onto his side. Better to face the wall than have to fall asleep after looking at her. No doubt he would be the one plagued with nightmares. He dearly hoped she was not such a wild sleeper so as to treat him like a punching bag during the night. That would be his luck.

Eventually the sound of Yomi's breathing slowed and became gradual enough to indicate that she had fallen asleep. His own exhaustion gnawed at the back of his mind. Lulled into unconsciousness, he found that sleeping beside someone was not as unfortunate as he might have initially thought. That belief would soon be betrayed, however.

He awoke to something jabbing him right in the gut. Robbed of breath, he choked as he stirred, struggling to make out his assailant through the darkness. His mind, heavy with sleep, reeled as he recognized Yomi's face. It was contorted and covered in sweat. She almost seemed to be in pain. Perhaps it was a nightmare? But she seemed to be crying.

Wrapping an arm protectively around his stomach to shield himself from the assaulting limb that had just delivered a rather powerful punch, Izaya tried to shift away from her. Once he was safely out of her immediate reach, he surveyed the situation – she had apparently been tossing and turning most of the night. The blanket he had given her was tangled up in her legs and her entire body was sprawled across most of the mattress.

"...kill you," she was mumbling in her sleep in a murderous tone.

He felt almost amused by the situation. Who was she dreaming about? Perhaps it was just as she had said earlier and she was dreaming about him. How ironic that she would be sleeping beside the very person whose life she wanted to end, then.

"Hiro-chan..."

Hearing that name caught his attention and he listened quietly without musing further. She must not have been dreaming about him after all.

"I'll kill you... Hiro-chan."

His eyes widened a fraction. What did she mean by that? What kind of dream was she having? Or was it not a dream...? Maybe she was reliving something. What Izaya would not give to sneak into her mind and have a glimpse of whatever it was she was seeing. Obviously it was vivid and frightening enough to have her wrestling frantically against the hold of the duvet that was wrapped tightly around her legs – coincidentally also binding one of her arms.

Betraying his usual frame of mind that insisted he should just silently observe, Izaya stretched a hand out and grasped her shoulder. A quick shake with accompanying words to rouse her from whatever it was that terrorized her. "Hey, Yomi-chan, you'll even wake ghosts making that much noise."

He would not be so amused when her eyelids flickered open and jerkily she turned toward him. It was clear that she was still not fully cognizant, considering how her free arm reached toward him to grasp hold of his throat – although she could not quite reach – and her mouth turned toward the hand touching her. A moment later he felt the pain of her teeth clamping down against his forearm, with enough strength to pierce skin. It was an unexpected reaction – she had turned almost feral.

Whatever patience he had exerted moments ago melted away. His irritation became apparent as he struggled to keep away from the hand reaching outward to choke him. Being strangled to death was the last outcome he had expected in sharing his bed with her. Rather than call out to her playfully, he employed a more forceful tone. "You going to gnaw my arm off, Yomi-chan? Are you even human?"

That seemed to pry her out of whatever had possessed her. Lucidity returned to her eyes as she blinked in surprise, tasting something coppery roll across her tongue. Almost immediately her jaw fell slack and she withdrew from him entirely. The expression on her face had turned to one of abject horror.

Izaya did not share in her surprise. He sat up while trying to examine the damage his arm had acquired. Puncture marks still lingered, alongside a stream of blood that was trickling out of the wound. Disgruntled, he wiped away at the spittle that lingered.

"You are surprisingly violent, Yomi-chan," he griped. "But more importantly, what was all that about? Hm? You said something about killing your beloved Hiro-chan. That was some nightmare... or do you perhaps hold a grudge against him? Was it not a nightmare at all?" His eyes flickered with interest, visible even through the dense black that obscured the entire room.

Yomi's hands immediately shot up to cradle her head as she rocked back and forth on the bed, taking in Izaya's words. "No," she whispered in denial, "I don't... not me. I love Hiro-chan. I have always loved Hiro-chan."

"That sounds an awful lot like someone trying to convince themselves of a lie."

Perhaps he had stumbled upon something that he should not have. Either way, Yomi wrested the blanket away from her body and immediately made a running start for the door. She was akin to a fleeing banshee – running as quickly as her legs would take her without regard for how she was dressed or where she was going.

Izaya could already guess where she was headed. He frowned to himself as he lifted his body out of the bed in search of some light to better ascertain the wound on his arm.

—

What was all that noise? As though someone was pounding frantically on his front door. Shizuo groaned as he sat up. He nearly stumbled toward the entrance to his apartment where it sounded as if his door might be beat down before he even got there. Without even peering out the peephole, he unlatched the locks and reached for the handle.

The moment the door opened, a blur came flying in at him and he became particularly aware of a warm body pressing against his own. Considering that he had just woken up, it took the blonde a moment to register what exactly was clinging to him.

"Yomi?" His brows lifted in surprise.

"Shi-chan," she breathed out in a shaky breath as she nuzzled his chest, a characteristic habit that she seemed to have picked up some time ago. Considering what she was wearing, it was clear that whatever had driven her to his apartment had been sudden and unexpected. His mind immediately thought of that flea.

"Something happen?" he guessed, gently pressing the palm of his hand against the top of her head. It was the only way he could think to offer her some comfort. Given the situation, he gave no thought to the last words she had spoken to him. More important was the fact that she seemed so desperate to have come all the way to him.

"It... wasn't me."

Shizuo blinked slowly. What was she talking about? "Huh?" He was still holding the front door wide open. "Hold on, come inside first." Even though he said that, she did not relinquish her hold on him. It took some maneuvering to manage to close the door.

Even after they were safely in the confines of his apartment, she kept her face firmly pressed against his chest. She dared not look up at him. From the way her voice cracked as she spoke, it almost seemed as though she was crying. Strange, he thought, although he had seen this vulnerable side of her before.

"Shi-chan, I... I want to die. I really, really want to die," she told him despairingly. "Why did you have to save me? It would have been better if I had burned with that building. Then it could be over. I feel so empty... so empty."

Perhaps after having shown such strong resolve from the beginning, she was finally beginning to crumble as she realized the meaning of losing Hiro. That was Shizuo's only guess. She had seemed so incredibly resilient, but he knew better than to think she was unaffected. Perhaps she had only been hiding it this entire time. A necessity, given the reason why she had come to Ikebukuro in the first place.

Still, he could not stand to listen to her talk of self-pity and suicide. Shizuo reached down and grasped her shoulder, trying to peel her off of him. "There is no point in you dying," he told her gruffly.

"Only you, Shi-chan," she insisted by holding onto him with all of her strength. "Being with you makes me feel whole again."

His eyes widened in shock at her words. Was this some kind of confession? Given that she was obviously not entirely sound of mind, he knew he could not completely take it to heart. Obviously she felt somewhat bitter toward him for not giving her presence more consideration. He had, after all, treated her like a parasite for some time. Gradually, however, even Shizuo's mindset had shifted.

The grip on her shoulder loosened and finally he had to release her. It was impossible to force her away when she said those words. All he could do was stand there uselessly, a feeling of guilt gnawing at him, that he could do nothing for her.

"It can only be Shi-chan after all," she declared. Then suddenly Yomi lifted her face away from his chest in order to peer up at him. Her hair was disheveled and windswept, glued to the sides of her face by tears that she had apparently shed earlier.

It was strangely embarrassing to gaze back at her when she looked up to him so earnestly. Shizuo immediately averted his eyes. "Did... Izaya do something?" he asked quietly, trying to change the subject.

At the mention of the informant, she shook her head. "No, Uzaya-chan didn't do anything. It was me. I ran away."

Not that her vague explanations were making any sense, but Shizuo could hardly ask her to elaborate when she seemed so shaken up. He breathed a sigh. What was he supposed to do in this kind of situation? He was not very accustomed to comforting people. Crying women always made him feel awkward. Although – come to think of it – when had he ever looked at Yomi as a woman anyways?

"Hey, Shi-chan, can you lean this way?"

She was gazing up at him expectantly when he peered down at her. "Huh?" It seemed an odd request. His initial reaction was bewilderment but he saw no harm in complying. Obediently he shifted downward in a sort of bow that brought them close to being eye level with each other. Did she want to see his face better? He stared at her in confusion.

Yomi smiled at him. "Thanks. It's much easier to reach this way. I won't have to stand on my tip-toes." Without another moment of hesitation, she leaned forward and those lips of hers gently brushed against his own. It left Shizuo standing rigidly and numb to the next words she spoke. "I even missed the smell of cigarette smoke, Shi-chan."

Swallowing hard, he stood up straight and promptly turned his back toward her. Strange – so strange. Why did his entire face feel like it was on fire? "I... need to go back to bed," he said suddenly. His voice almost seemed to have a tremor in it. Why? What was wrong with him?

"Then you don't mind if I borrow your couch again, right, Shi-chan?" Yomi prompted with a grin as she sidestepped around him and peeked up at his face.

He tried again, in vain, to avoid looking at her. "Yeah... that's fine."

* * *

**Author's Note:** No matter how many times I proofread, I seem to find more typos or other grammatical errors. I know someone commented before that they would like to see me improve on that front but until the day I have a professional beta reader I am inclined to think that is unlikely. Anyways, thank you guys soooo much for the reviews. Since it adheres better to my schedule, I am going to be updating every Sunday from now on (instead of Monday).


	17. Margin of Error

**Chapter 17 – Margin of Error**

"Something happened to your arm?" Namie quirked a brow as she noticed the bandages adorning Izaya's forearm.

Such an inquiry was the last thing he wanted so early in the morning, especially before he had even enjoyed a single cup of coffee. Izaya regarded his secretary blankly. What kind of answer was appropriate to deliver? Certainly he did not want to admit to essentially allowing that piranha of a woman into his bed. He did not need Namie to laugh at his expense.

Having received no answer, Namie cast a gaze around the room. "I suspect it has something to do with the annoying girl's absence. What happened?" Suddenly she had skipped thinking that something transpired to knowing that it had. She was more clever than he gave her credit for.

He replied only by pushing his empty mug to the edge of the desk. "You're going to make coffee this morning, right, Namie-san?"

"If you are trying to change the subject, that must mean it was pretty embarrassing for you," she commented as she snatched his ceramic cup off the table. "Well, I have to say that I am impressed if she had the guts to bite you."

Before he had a chance to respond, she had already waltzed out of the room, leaving him to stew in his displeasure. Yomi had yet to return, granted that it was still fairly early in the morning. Izaya could easily guess where she had managed to run off to. Much as he had attempted to keep her separated from Shizuo. Whatever feelings existed between the two – it gnawed at the back of Izaya's mind. More annoying than a persistent mosquito. This was throwing an unnecessary wrench into his plan. He had not calculated the existence of a relationship forming between Yomi and that protozoan.

As though thinking about her had conjured her very presence, Yomi came flying in through the front door as though the events from the previous night were just a nightmare. She smiled blithely as she approached Izaya's desk, arms swinging uncontrollably as she skipped along.

"Good morning, Uzaya-chan!"

He regarded her through half-lidded eyes, weighed down by lingering exhaustion. "Not necessarily a good one considering what happened last night, Yomi-chan. I do hope that you intend to repay a favor for a favor. Consider yourself further indebted."

The woman clicked her tongue in return. "You know, you are what they call a 'Debbie Downer.' You shouldn't be so concerned about debts and the like, Uzaya-chan! Anyways, I can't stay long since I have to get started on this list." Apparently she was referring to the envelope she had left sitting in the corner of his office. No doubt that was the sole reason why she had returned.

"So are you going to be staying with your beloved Shizu-chan from now on?" He ventured, sounding perhaps more condescending than he had intended.

Yomi had, in the meantime, wandered over to retrieve her envelope. When he addressed her with the question, she suddenly stood rigidly and emitted a squeak of surprise. "Huh? You knew where I was? Wow, it's almost like you have psychic powers, Uzaya-chan~ But would it really be okay if I stopped staying here? I think you would miss me."

"I am sure he would lament your absence," Namie voiced sardonically as she reentered the room and placed the mug on Izaya's desk. Despite her caustic remark, she seemed to be pleased at Yomi's presence. If only because the other woman provided some necessary annoyance to Izaya.

"See? Namie-chan thinks so, too. So I have to stay here."

As unconvincing as her reasoning was, Izaya was not going to contest it. Caught between the two women, he could not win anyways. Better to entertain their musings with silence. Although he did find himself a bit curious as to what reasoning Yomi could possibly have for not wanting to live with Shizuo. What point was there in insisting on staying at his office if Shizuo brought her such happiness?

"I heard if you keep your face like that, it gets stuck that way," Yomi said suddenly. Caught up in thought, Izaya had not even noticed her approach, at least not until he felt her finger poking him in the forehead.

The informant eyed her curiously. "Oh? Then what kind of face was I making?"

Retracting her hand, Yomi promptly contorted her face by wrinkling her forehead and puffing her cheeks. It was rather comical and certainly not at all the kind of expression that Izaya was most likely making. She could not even hold it for very long before bursting out in laughter. "Ahaha, it was just like that!"

He reached forward and thumped her on the forehead.

"Ow, hey! What was that for?" she grumbled as she furiously rubbed the red mark left behind.

"Retaliation," Izaya answered matter-of-factly. "You did injure my arm last night, Yomi-chan. I think it is only appropriate if we are even. At least I am not gnawing your arm like a rabid animal." He smiled pleasantly at her but it was clear that underneath the facade, he was still somewhat perturbed by her actions.

Ignoring this not-so-subtle jab, Yomi turned and headed toward the door – marched, more or less. "Okay, time to start the mission. If you get any more useful information, let me know, Uzaya-chan. I will be back in time for dinner for sure." She winked at him before bolting out the door.

—

By the time Shizuo had woken up that morning and ventured out of his room, Yomi had already disappeared from the place where she had been the night before. He had left her curled in a ball on his couch with a blanket draped over her. She seemed to be slumbering peacefully by the time he slipped into his room to go back to sleep.

He could not deny his frustration at her random, abrupt appearances and subsequent disappearances. It was more so the latter that left him frazzled. Yomi had managed to wear down whatever patience he had. (Granted that Shizuo Heiwajima was not a particularly patient person to begin with.)

Shuffling to the kitchen, Shizuo headed toward the fridge with the intention of sating his morning urge for dairy. He found himself feeling a bit abashed when he noticed that Yomi had apparently gone out of her way to restock his supply of milk before she set off. How typical of her.

As he reached for the bottle, twisted the lid and started guzzling, he thought back to her words earlier that week. _"You don't even really know me."_ Of all the things she had said to him, it was that, perhaps, that had bothered him the most. But when contacting her was impossible – because it had always been done by her own terms anyways – he was unsure of how to broach the subject with her. Forget mentioning it, his biggest problem was trying to communicate with her in the first place. They could not have been more polar opposites.

The more he thought about it, the more irritated he started to feel. He would be chain smoking the whole way to meet Tom just to calm himself down.

—

"Hm? What do you mean you don't know if you have seen him before or not?" Yomi slammed the man's face against the concrete as she reiterated her question. One hand grasped firmly the short locks of his ginger red hair, and the other dangled a picture in front of his face. It was a photograph of herself and Hiro. "It really is pretty simple. Yes or no. I would hate to have to start ripping your hair out of your scalp, you know. That would be really unlucky for you. Say, what's it called if someone is so bald they don't even have any skin left on their skull...?"

Although he initially tried to remain true to his principles, the man quickly crumbled in face of the real threat that Yomi was posing. His positioning – sprawled flat across the ground – was especially compromising. It was pure luck, really, that the short female had managed to pounce him while his guard was down. At least he preferred to think it was all luck.

A swift yank that craned the man's neck uncomfortably brought an answer gargling out of his mouth, making it almost indiscernible. "I... saw him around... here... couple times."

"Hm? I can't hear you over the useless information that you seem to be spouting. Funny, those fat lips of yours are singing and I really only asked for one word from them. Do you think this is an opera? Shall I try playing a musical instrument by beating your head against the ground some more?" How she managed to sound undeniably delighted while intimidating a grown man and bringing him to tears was almost awe-inspiring.

"Yes," the man cried. "Yes, I saw him!"

Yomi smiled, although it was not a pleasant one. "Good, that was all you had to say. Now... did you ever talk to him?"

This time he answered without any prompting on her part. "Yes!"

"And what did you discuss?"

At this the man seemed to hesitate. It almost seemed as though chancing the fact that Yomi might skin him alive would be more advisable than divulging the information she was seeking. But another bout of slamming his head against the ground convinced him that – either way – he was as good as dead. Tears were quite literally spilling down his cheeks as he blubbered, "L-Look, lady, you are digging your own grave. He shoulda never been snoopin' around."

"So you told him something you shouldn't have?" she guessed grimly.

"No!" he almost screamed in denial. "No, I don't know what he knew! I just know that he got 'em... the yakuza, after him. 'Cause he was snoopin'!"

She had to pause to evaluate how genuine this information was. But the man did not necessarily seem to be lying. "What you are telling me is very disappointing, you know. If you can't tell me something to pique my interest in the next minute, I think I will just blow your brains across the sidewalk. Skinning you would be too tedious."

"I told you everything!" he protested. "He just asked me... if I knew how to shake 'em."

"And you told him?"

"Told 'im he wouldn't have to. Since he was with 'em, they wouldn't mess with 'im. They'd just go after whoever was closest to silence 'im. He sped off right quick after that. I dun know anything more!"

A disappointing revelation. It seemed as though her first chosen target was not the intended one. Yomi sighed. "Okay, okay. But if you were in contact with him enough to know that, then you probably know who he mainly used if he needed information, right?"

"Everyone 'round these parts goes to Izaya Orihara. Ask 'im!"

Her lips puckered. "Oh, hey, why didn't I think of that... Oh wait." **Bam!** She slammed his head against the concrete again. This time when she drew his head back, a thin stream of crimson red was running down his forehead and his nose appeared battered and bloody enough that it was nearly beyond recognition. "That was a stupid suggestion. Try again."

"I... already told you," the man sobbed. "Not many of us have that kinda connections and most of us not been here long enough to even hold a candle. Orihara is somethin' amazin'. You'd be better off harassin' 'im insteada me, you want real answers."

Although he was not aware of Yomi's connection to Izaya, the information she had procured from the man was not altogether useless. Certainly his words bore some delving into. For it occurred to Yomi that, while she has thus far considered Izaya her ally, he was also just as likely her enemy. Information was something he bartered with, after all, and he did not seem benevolent enough to just hand it out like candy to her for little tidbits about her life.

What was he scheming? Up until this point, she had been too busy with other thoughts to give that consideration. But she was not so dim as to completely overlook the possibility that he was actively betraying her.

"Hm. I guess it will be okay to let you go. Not that your girlfriend will be able to recognize you like that. Really, you should learn to be more cooperative." To think that she was chiding him when approaching him normally would have been what any sane person would have attempted first. Yomi, however, operated by a very different set of rules. Still, it was by all considerations a show of mercy that she finally crawled off the half-beaten man, dusting her clothes off once she stood fully.

Whimpering, the man struggled to his feet. Perhaps his being slammed face-first against the concrete had caused more damage than either of them thought, for he swayed as he tried to walk, pressing his hand against a nearby building to steady himself.

"Just walk it off," Yomi advised merrily.

Had he not been scared witless by her, he might have pointed a glare in her direction.

After letting him off, Yomi started back for Izaya's office. The sun was beginning to set by the time she had finished. Locating informants proved to be a far more meticulous task than she had thought. They were particularly sneaky and careful to change their usual areas every so often. It made finding her target especially tiresome. But that was one name she could cross off the list for now.

By the time she made it back to the office, Namie had already left for the day. Izaya, however, was hunched over in his chair, typing away on his computer. He seemed too enamored in the activity to even acknowledge that she had returned.

"I am hoooome~" she called out to him heartily, as though yelling would coax him to look up.

But whatever it was that he was wrapped up in was obviously pertinent enough that he could afford ignoring her entirely. Curiosity compelled her to investigate what it was that had managed to capture his attention. Despite knowing full well that he was not the least bit appreciative of people reading over his shoulder, she peeked at the screen from behind him. It appeared to be a chat room, where he was actively communicating with several other people.

"Yomi-chan, you are being rude, you know~"

Her expression soured. Caught so quickly? She scarcely had any opportunity to actually survey the contents of the chat to see what he was talking about. But now his face was blocking her view and that grin of his was not particularly welcoming. Yomi recoiled with a frown. "You are such a party pooper."

"Oh? Was your adventure into the city not fruitful? You don't look as happy as when you left." He was already making wild assumptions – albeit accurate ones – before she could even open her mouth to relay to him what happened.

Yet rather than playfully answer as he might have expected, she seemed to sober almost immediately. Grasping the arms of his chair, Yomi trapped Izaya from turning away, and then she leaned toward him until their faces were close enough so that he could feel her breath as she spoke. "You... really didn't have anything to do with what happened to my Hiro-chan. Right?"

"Oh, such a scary tone you are using~ But how do you think I will answer, Yomi-chan? Did you think I would tell you 'yes' even if it were true?" He smirked. "But would you trust me if I told you 'no'?" It was as though he could read her mind.

Certainly a part of her knew that the inquiry was made in vain to begin with. Her fingers constricted until her knuckles turned a pale white. "It would be... disappointing... if you had to be the one I turned my gun to in the end. Don't make it turn out that way."

"You could not kill me," he spoke with unsurpassed confidence, a glint in his eyes. Izaya was challenging Yomi to contradict his statement. Perhaps he expected her to contest it, or maybe he was posing it purposefully to make her deny his assertion.

Yet rather than comply with either of those possibilities, Yomi ignored his words entirely. "Should I make coffee? I bet you let your mug get low again. Ah, what would you do without me, Uzaya-chan?" Those emotionless eyes of his followed her as she recoiled and moved for the cup on his desk. In the same instant that she outstretched her hand, he grabbed her wrist.

"Hold on. I don't think we are quite finished with our conversation." He grinned at her, eyes squinting. "Speak frankly, Yomi-chan. No need to be cryptic or pass out veiled threats. What do you really think? Or would you prefer for me to read your cues? Shall I–"

"Then," Yomi began, interrupting him, "Should I tell you that I don't think your hands are entirely clean? No, maybe you want it more clearly... Okay. I think you hold some blame in the reason why Hiro-chan is dead."

"And? If you find out that you are right?"

The young woman studied his inquisitive expression for a moment before averting her eyes to stare at the mug she had been reaching toward. Izaya still maintained a steady grip on her wrist. "You are bored here in Shinjuku, right? You should move. Go somewhere new and stir trouble. That's what you like to do, right, Uzaya-chan?"

At first those successive questions puzzled him but then Izaya seemed to understand where they were coming from. "Ahh," he cooed in smug recognition. "Trying to coax me to leave so you don't have to bother with confronting me if your fears are realized? I did not know you cared for me so deeply, Yomi-chan. Or is it not that you care for me, but you actually don't want to hurt someone?" His grasp on her tightened.

It was becoming increasingly clear that the Yomi beneath the facade was gradually coming out. But now that he was trying – by himself – to crack the mask, she was quickly trying to hide beneath it again. "You really think too much on these things, you know."

"On the contrary, I think I have it pinned, Yomi-chan. Based on what you said to Shizu-chan before, I think I know exactly why you want me to leave." He cleared his throat before continuing, going on a different train of thought. "Well, Yomi-chan, since you were so frank with me, let me share something with you."

She regarded him apprehensively out of the corner of her eye. Perspiration had gathered beads of sweat on her brow and there was no doubt that Izaya had registered the trembling in her hand. Yomi could tell – he was beginning to be able to see through all her attempts to hide.

"I don't think you are here in Ikebukuro on a selfless mission to seek vengeance for your dead brother. I think that you are trying to sooth your own guilt. But why are you guilty, Yomi-chan? Is it the guilt of someone who survived when they should have died? See, I remember that you got that gunshot wound from your precious Hiro-chan. Now why would someone who loved you, shoot you? What did you do that warranted being shot at, Yomi-chan?"

"Ah, aren't you talking about that time I was drunk?" she recalled dismissively. Though her voice hinted at how nervous she was that he was on the right trail.

Izaya smirked at her unwitting corroboration. "I think you feel you owe Hiro-chan something, so you are doing all of this subdue your own guilt. This is where I am curious, Yomi-chan. What did you do? What has you so desperate to repent?"

This seemed to stir something previously unseen in Yomi as she immediately wrenched herself away from his grasp, hysterically crying out, "I didn't do anything!" Her eyes were widened and her lips trembling as she violently shook her head and bellowed at Izaya. "It wasn't me!"

A breakdown was occurring in that mask of hers and it presented the perfect opportunity to exploit. Strangely, though, Izaya almost found himself reluctant to take advantage of it. Still, his usual ways presided over whatever was conflicting him and he kept pressing her. "Is that what you told yourself after Hiro-chan put that bullet in you?"

It was as though his words conjured the image in her brain. Yomi grasped at her scalp, clenching at clumps of her hair with her fists. Her knees buckled beneath her as she sobbed in anguish. "I... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." It was as though the denial had washed away and left in its wake something broken and incomplete. Izaya could never remember seeing something so human from Yomi as the tears that she was now shedding – pouring down her cheeks.

Standing from his chair, Izaya slowly ventured over to her. He condescendingly scrutinized her while casting a shadow over her. She seemed strangely numb to his presence, too caught up in spewing apologies repeatedly. "Hiro-chan won't forgive you," he told her.

This information gave her pause as those unfocused eyes of hers peered warily up at him. Her lips seemed to echo his words as she registered their meaning gradually. "You're right," she mumbled, almost incoherently. "You're right. Hiro-chan... can't forgive me. He can never forgive me. I... I should have died."

"Ah, Yomi-chan, you were being too hasty and didn't even let me finish," he chided with a frown. Then – although even Izaya realized how uncharacteristic it was of him – he placed each of his hands gently upon her own to persuade her into releasing the fistfuls of hair she had nearly ripped from her scalp. "You cannot ask forgiveness from someone who is dead. The only person who hates you is yourself, Yomi-chan." Was he implying that she had to be the one to forgive herself, then? Strange advice from a person who seemed so intent on pushing her to her breaking point. Perhaps it was Izaya's intent to coax her into lowering her guard and to ingratiate himself.

Whatever the informant's aim, she was too susceptible in her vulnerable state to consider what his motives were. Having expelled the pent up emotion, she turned numb and knocked away his hands. "You can say that," she seethed quietly. "You don't know what I've done. No one knows what I have done. If they knew – if everyone knew – they would hate me." It was this, which had Yomi so convinced that she was beyond saving, that piqued Izaya's interest. Her suicidal approach that at once put herself in danger and yet successfully brought her the results that she sought. To some degree, it betrayed his expectations and it was what made her such an interesting part of his ploy.

"You already have yourself convinced," he surmised. "But Yomi-chan, you already know that I love all humans." It was unspoken that he excluded Shizuo Heiwajima from "humans" – given that Izaya considered him to belong to a category of his own.

Yet that was the very train of thought that Yomi caught onto as she steadily gazed up at Izaya who towered over her. "Exactly, Uzaya-chan." She gave a self-deprecating smile. "You love all humans. But I'm not 'human,' am I?" A rhetorical question – she did not care to hear him contest it.

"If not human, then what do you consider yourself?" It was a rather pointless question, given that Izaya could already guess the answer she was about to give him. _"A monster,"_ he expected her to say. However, Yomi was never one to so consistently adhere to his expectations.

"Hold my hand," she said suddenly. It was an odd request that he initially ignored, and Yomi seemed too impatient to wait. Finally she reached up and forcefully took his hand in hers. "It's warm, isn't it? My hand, your hand."

He quirked a brow at her. Where was she going with this?

"See, that's how I trick you – and Shi-chan, too. I make you think that we are alike. So you lower your guard, you lump me in with the rest." Yomi studied his expression and her lips cracked in a smile – one born of bitterness. "I am a wolf in sheep's clothing."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Meant to post this morning but been feeling pretty sick all day. Ugh. It's NaNoWriMo, as many of you may know, so I will update again in a week but after that it may be bi-weekly (every two weeks) until NaNoWriMo is over and I can work some more on my other stories. Thanks for reading! And for all the lovely reviews, faves, alerts. :)


	18. Cornered

**Chapter 18 ****–** Cornered

"I have been expecting you." Smoke curled through the air as it rose off the tip of the cigarette that he briefly pried out from between his two lips. The young man smiled at her pleasantly as he stood from his seat. He was the first of the four that she had hunted down that seemed to have anticipated her visit, but she supposed it only made sense that her reputation would precede her in this case. Since he was also the last one on her list.

Yomi maintained an adequate distance as she took a sweeping glance over his office. It was certainly impressive enough – more cluttered and high-end than Izaya's. Such furnishings gave the impression that perhaps the man had been operating in the area longer than his rivals, giving Yomi some confidence that she had just the right person.

"It's kind of rude, you know," she said, "For you to say you're expecting me and not even have tea prepared." Despite the fact that he appeared harmless, she was not naive enough to be deceived. The girl tucked her fingers into her jacket, reaching for the gun therein.

"You don't have to pull that out on me," he told her. "If there is something you wish to know, you need merely ask. I have no plans on withholding information from you."

"Oh?" she chirped back in surprise, quirking a brow. "Going to name your price then?"

He took a long drag from his cigarette before replying. "No price. You can have it for free."

Perhaps any other person would have been grateful and taken that at face value. Yomi, however, could not tamp down her rising suspicion. None of the other men she had chased down had given her such a courtesy. Why would this man willingly oblige her? Unless he knew nothing, or he planned to lie to her. She furrowed her brows. "Why the generosity?" The question had to be asked.

The man appeared pensive, as though weighing the options as to how he could best respond. He almost seemed to regard Yomi as a ticking time bomb. "Consider it a favor," the man finally drawled out as he settled back into his seat. "A favor to your dead brother. My condolences, by the way."

"I doubt you care very much about what happened to Hiro-chan."

"On the contrary, I felt very sympathetic toward your brother's cause. You do realize why he was in Ikebukuro in the first place, right?" Seeing that Yomi maintained a blank expression, the man elaborated. "The whole reason he joined up with yakuza was to pay off debt from a loan he took out. You have any idea why your brother would need a loan?"

Rather than answer, Yomi grasped the gun tightly in her hand, ready to pull it out on the man should she decide she disliked the direction of the conversation.

Taking her silence for an answer, the informant assumed that she must not have been aware. "Of course you wouldn't know," he said to himself. "With all the money that your father makes, it would have been more logical to ask him than to do underhanded work for shady people." Again he stopped for a puff.

"You seem to know a lot," Yomi remarked dryly. "More than you should know."

"I do," he acknowledged in turn. "I am the reason that the whole world thinks that Kaiya Inoue is dead, you know. Would it not seem strange for me to not know all of this information if I had not been the one to orchestrate your seamless disappearance?"

That seemed to explain a lot. Izaya had commented on it before, and she had surely realized it herself. Her identity had been wiped off the records almost at the same exact time that Hiro had died. A strange stroke of luck then that she would just suddenly stumble upon this man. She knew better than that, though – Izaya clearly knew of this informant's involvement with Hiro.

"That loan that Hiro took out was for that purpose. Well, not solely for that – I suppose he kept some of it in savings for himself and you. He intended to free you from your father so that the two of you could live together."

All of this information was irrelevant to her. Hearing of her brother's intentions now that he was long since passed did little to stir anything within Yomi. That was not the reason why she had come; those were not the answers she was seeking. "More importantly," she spoke up, interrupting what she considered a lengthy and boring tale, "Were you the one who gave Hiro-chan the information that killed him?"

The man seemed to sober a bit from his relaxed smile, turning more grave as he finally put out his cigarette on the table beside him. "That is not what you really want to ask me, now is it? You did not come all the way here to ask me a question that you already know the answer to."

"That I know the answer to?" she echoed.

"Don't play dumb," he barked back reproachfully. "The two people you have spent the most time with since you came here, have you given some thought as to how they could be involved in your brother's death?"

Genuinely bewildered but nevertheless sly enough to maintain her facade, Yomi only cocked an eyebrow at the man. "You must mean Izaya," she guessed. "But other than him, I don't know what other person you could possibly–"

"Shizuo Heiwajima. Or I believe you call him 'Shi-chan.' The bodyguard of that debt collector."

Something was going off in Yomi's head, like a danger sign warning her to leave – to stop. This was venturing into territory she feared treading in. This man was leading her to confirm her latent fears, the last thing she wanted. It would be better for her to go. Better not to know and just run away. But as she swallowed the lump forming at the back of her throat, she found her feet felt as though they were glued to the floor.

"Yes, I suppose Shizuo would be less suspicious to you," he mumbled to himself as he stroked his chin. "You should be able to put the pieces together. Heiwajima is the bodyguard of a debt collector. You can imagine that being a grunt of the yakuza, with the large amount that your brother had borrowed, he was hardly able to keep his apartment and buy food – let alone pay back his loan. Heiwajima and his boss are the ones that paid visits to and tried to wheedle payments out of your brother. Payments that he could not make. Money that he did not have."

That seemed to create a dissonance in Yomi. Her gaze faltered as she averted her eyes to the floor, trying to mentally integrate this new information. Conflicting feelings bunched up in her head and ultimately tangled her thoughts.

"Well, you have seen Heiwajima's strength, I am sure you understand that your brother would be desperate to try to make his payments. To do that he had to move up in rank in the yakuza. A quick way – he did not want to dirty his hands killing people. Conveniently enough, someone appeared with exactly the kind of leverage your brother could use – but the information was not something he should have been able to get his hands on. And when they found out that he knew something that he was not supposed to, everything backfired on him. He knew they would go after you."

"How do you know all of this?" Whatever had been holding her back was gone now as she pulled out her gun and aimed it at the head of the man sitting just a few feet in front of her. There was a gnawing in the pit of her stomach that left her feeling nauseous. This sudden influx of information – things she had never known – it left her reeling.

The man's expression contorted into one of annoyance. "You seem to have a penchant for deceiving yourself. Why am I wasting my time explaining any of this to you if you are going to keep questioning all of it?" He sighed, scratching his head. "Before your brother ran home to save you, he came to me to give me the money he could to erase all traces of you and to deal with the aftermath. My obligations to him ended after I found you lying in a pool of your own blood and took you to the hospital."

Upon hearing that, Yomi's expression became blank and she slowly lowered her gun. All traces of the facade she had been wearing seemed to instantly fade. "Then... you know," she said with trepidation, glancing up at him with an unbefore seen hesitancy. Almost immediately afterward she blanched as she asked, "How much of this... does Izaya know?"

"If you are asking how much I have told him, the answering is 'nothing.' As for how much he found out on his own, he probably has picked up most of the pieces himself and fit them together." The man smiled bitterly as he mumbled, "I really hate that guy. I imagine the reason you showed up here was thanks to him. He probably figured that I knew everything."

A numbness had crept over her, replacing the jumbled feelings that had been threatening to overwhelm her before. The farce was over – everything she had been trying to keep hidden for so long. It became painfully obvious that her futile attempts had been in vain. No doubt Izaya had been digging into her past through his various contacts, while she was busy in the meantime trying to hunt down an empty lead.

Something flickered in her eyes. An empty lead? Yes, that was exactly it. "Izaya," she seethed out in realization. "He... he gave Hiro-chan that information. He's the one... it's his fault." All the blame that had been piling up, she finally had a name to put it on. An image to carve her hatred across. But why did she not feel relieved? Feel that numbing anger twisting in her stomach, thirsting for revenge? No, instead she felt strangely hollow.

Finding out that Izaya was to blame was the last thing she wanted. Yet it had been his plan all along to leave bread crumbs leading back to himself. She had always been destined to find out and he had made no moves to hide his involvement. Her pleas with him to leave, to hide – they had all fallen on deaf ears. And now the path before her was clear.

Izaya Orihara, through his actions, had robbed her of the person she loved most in the world. By the information he had given Hiro, he had ultimately destroyed one half of the whole. Yet while she could logically condemn him, Yomi struggled to bring herself to fully hate Izaya. Why?

Mind hazy with disbelief and denial, Yomi slowly turned and shuffled toward the door, each step painstakingly slower than the last. She did not even bid the man behind her a goodbye – nor did she hear whatever words he spoke to her before the door shut behind her.

The trip back to Shinjuku gave just enough time to further weaken her resolve. And as she exited the station and headed back toward Izaya's office, the sun began receding in the background. Night was beginning its slow descent.

By the time she arrived at the door leading inside the office, Yomi retained a steady grip on her gun, now tucked inside her jacket. She had kept it hidden from view on the way and yet holding it the entire way gave her a sense of security. It was the first time that she had ever felt vulnerable, paranoid that Izaya had bulldozed all the walls she had built up to conceal herself.

With eyes still half-glazed and unfocused, she tried the handle to the door. It gave way immediately and swung inward. Yet within the office, she did not spot the informant in his seat where he had been that morning when she had left. No, he was nowhere to be found – yet Namie was diligently tapping away at the keys on her laptop.

Before Yomi could even close the door behind her, Namie piped up. "I don't know what he has planned, but he left a letter for you on his desk."

Again a sense of foreboding overcame Yomi and her legs nevertheless carried her to Izaya's desk. Sitting there was an envelope with her name hastily written out. Not as "Yomi," but as "Kaiya." She frowned as she reached for it. Almost as soon as she read the contents, she crumbled the note and stuffed it into her pocket, heading back for the door.

Before she left, Namie said, "Be careful."

That question seemed to give the other woman momentary pause. "Goodbye... Namie-chan."

—

Night had brought Ikebukuro alive with a rainbow of neon colors that lit up the darkness and obscured the view of the stars in the sky. Certainly it was bewitching to the cheery young adults heading out to pubs to spend their Friday night guzzling alcohol. In midst of all of the good cheer as New Years rapidly approached, Yomi found herself caught in the hustle and bustle. Her feet were dragging across the pavement.

It did not take long for her to break away from the crowds. Nor did it take very long for her to find her way to the destination inscribed on the letter that Izaya had left for her. A place she had temporarily called home – a place that Hiro had more permanently called home. The apartment she had deserted in favor of getting revenge.

Now that everything had come full circle, she found herself hesitating as she tested her hand on the door knob. It was not locked. Most probably because there was someone waiting inside for her – Izaya, no doubt. She had built up her resolve for this.

Pulling the gun from her jacket pocket, she held it steadied as she opened the door and entered. Not a single light had been left on, giving the impression that the apartment was empty and abandoned. Yomi was not about to be so easily deceived. She had not been led here for nothing.

"No need for the obscurity," she crooned as she ventured in. "Unless you are really afraid that I am going to kill you, Uzaya-chan."

A light flickered on beside her, illuminating the very person whose name she had called. The lamp managed to emanate enough to color the entire main room of the apartment. And in turn it revealed Izaya who appeared surprisingly lax, his hands casually stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. The smirk he was wearing gave the obvious impression that he did not regard Yomi as being of an immediate threat.

"Ah, there you are." She grinned at him before turning her gun on him. Her finger, poised at the trigger, started to clench down. "You made this surprisingly easy. Even though I asked you to leave. Even though I told you not to be the one... you made me run around in circles."

He merely chuckled at her accusations. "Ah, Yomi-chan, I knew you would make this fun in the end. It was worth playing cat and mouse to get this far." Suddenly he lunged toward her, and before Yomi could react, she felt a blade at her throat. "Now, Yomi-chan, let's not be hasty. You don't have much time before your visitor gets here, after all."

"Visitor...?"

"You went to such lengths to keep all these things hidden from me, but they were so interesting! I couldn't keep them to myself, you know. Not when the truth behind why you came here to Ikebukuro revealed itself. Unfortunately even I could not verify everything so I decided we should play a little game."

Yomi's body froze up as her mind raced to decipher the meaning behind his cryptic words.

Izaya, however, did not wait for her to put the pieces together by herself. He grinned as he leaned inward, the warmth of his breath buffeting the shell of her ear as he whispered, "I thought Shizu-chan would make an appropriate guinea pig."

At almost that same moment there was a faint rapping on the front door that gradually grew louder. It was accompanied shortly by a faint voice calling her name – a voice that was all too familiar, confirming Izaya's words. Yomi's blood ran cold.

"But why stop there, with just inviting Shizu-chan? So I delivered him a package. Since you were busy running around confronting random people that I threw at you, Yomi-chan, I took the liberty of tracking down the hospital you stayed at. And subsequently the spot where Hiro-chan died. See, it took quite a bit of effort but I also managed to hunt down the weapon that killed him."

Suddenly there came the sound of the door opening. Then an echo of footsteps. "I-za-ya," the blonde growled out as soon as he spotted the informant. It was clear by the gleam in his eyes that he was liable to immediately lunge for Izaya.

But before Shizuo could take another step, Yomi turned her gun on him. "Not another step," she warned with a growl.

The blonde appeared shocked to see her gun suddenly turned on him when moments before Izaya had been the one staring that barrel down. But within his own hands, Shizuo was carrying an opened package, the contents not immediately visible to Yomi.

Izaya lowered his flickblade from Yomi and replaced his hands in his pockets. He smiled jovially at the two as he went on to explain his intentions. "See, I try to keep from having too much personal influence over these games but it seemed like it would be more fun to be one of the pieces on the board than to stand by idly and observe. So, Yomi-chan, why don't we enlighten Shizu-chan as to why he is here?"

Even as she kept her aim steadily pointed toward the blonde, Yomi's eyes followed Izaya as he moved around her.

"It's not a mistake that you are here, Shizu-chan. You already know all about why she is here. But do you remember coming to this same apartment while you were making your rounds, just a month ago? Two months ago? Does it seem... familiar?"

The confusion was slowly ebbing away from the blonde's face. Perhaps he was starting to have a hazy awareness as to what part he was playing in this twisted game. In the back of his head, no doubt he was damning the flea.

"Of course it does, even if you don't recognize the name. You do remember coming here," Izaya answered for him at last. "After all, you came here quite a few times to extort money from a man who did not make his payments on time. And I am certain you have never questioned the circumstances of the people whose heads you violently bash in – like the protozoan that you are – if they don't pay up.

"And you probably thought nothing about this apartment being empty when you last came to visit it. When it disappeared from your usual route, surely no curiosity tugged at the back of your mind and made you wonder why – why, despite such an enormous sum, you were no longer hitting that young man up for money that he owed."

Yomi's gaze broke away as she peered over at Shizuo. He was frozen beneath the scope of her weapon, poised to shoot him straight in the chest if required. But the young woman found her arms were trembling as she silently listened to the informant's words. It drilled further into her a reality that she had never considered. That Izaya was not the one to blame, that somehow Shizuo was the one her anger, hatred and vengeance were to be directed at.

"Are you not going to offer up an excuse to Yomi-chan? That was her beloved twin that you were beating on every week when you came here for money. Aren't you going to rattle off to her how it was just a job? Or are you going to apologize?"

Shizuo remained pensive for a moment before opening his mouth to speak. Yet almost as soon as he started to say something, he was abruptly cut off.

"No," Yomi almost screamed at him as her forehead creased with lines of anxiety. Beads of perspiration were trickling down the length of her face and her arm trembled enough that she had to use both hands to steady her gun. "No apologies. You can't bring Hiro-chan back to me by saying sorry!"

"That's right," Izaya concurred. "But if you are looking for someone to blame, Yomi-chan, you need look no farther than a mirror." As soon as he finished that sentence, he whipped out his flickblade and sent it flying through the air toward Shizuo. Rather than hitting the blonde, it was carefully enough aimed that it ended up only piercing the box that he had been holding it, knocking it to the floor. The flaps fell away from each other and out spilled peanuts – and a gun, which clattered as it skidded across the floor until it stopped at Yomi's feet.

Her heart seized as she stared down at it. "That is..."

"Familiar?" Izaya asked. "Ah, yes, of course it would be. It is your gun, after all. You see, Yomi-chan, by time I found it, I understood why you had called yourself a wolf in sheep's clothing. All this time you were hanging around Ikebukuro, desperate to track down the people who 'had killed your precious Hiro-chan,' but you were really just trying to escape your own guilt."

Her eyes had grown hazy with tears as she worriedly glanced up at Shizuo, in time to see that confusion had contorted his face again. Yomi's heart was racing erratically. "Don't say anymore," she whispered urgently. "Don't tell... don't tell Shi-chan." Why? Why was she crying? That facade was rapidly crumbling, disappearing despite her efforts to retain it.

"Ah, I am mincing words. Why don't I cut straight to the point? Or... why don't you just shoot Shizu-chan?" Izaya grinned as he gently rested hand on Yomi's shoulder. "Shoot him. You want to blame him for what happened. If you kill him, it will all be over. Your Hiro-chan will be avenged. Or... I can tell Shizu-chan the truth."

The truth? She could scarcely swallow when she heard that word – her throat felt like the Sahara desert.

"Don't touch her," Shizuo growled, sensing how uncomfortable Yomi felt. Yet as he took a few steps forward, he was again stalled when Yomi suddenly threw her weapon at him.

"Stay back!" she screamed. Then only a short moment later she had retrieved the gun that had been at her feet. This time she did not brandish it at Shizuo threateningly. Instead she seemed to hesitate to use it at all – her gaze was locked on it as she cradled it in her hands.

Feeling triumphant at how things were seamlessly progressing in his favor, Izaya smirked as his grip on Yomi's shoulder tightened. "That's right, Shizu-chan, you should stay away. See, if you get much closer, then Yomi-chan might shoot you, too."

"Shoot me too?" Shizuo echoed in disbelief. His eyes seemed to be scanning the room for the largest thing to chuck at Izaya, yet the apartment was clearly empty and devoid of any such convenient objects.

"Ah, yes, that's right. You don't know," the informant remarked, deriving great pleasure from the position of power he was sitting on. Waving all of this in front of the blonde's face gave him far more gratification than any other stunt he had ever pulled off before.

"What don't I know?" Shizuo charged back with a growl of ferocity.

"The person who killed Hiro-san was none other than Yomi-chan herself."

* * *

**Author's Note:** So, progress in the storyline. Like overwhelmingly so. Next chapter will have a bit of a flashback. Posting this in the wee hours of the morning because I can. No guarantees the next chapter will be posted in a week. Hoping so but with NaNoWriMo, it might be 2 weeks.

Thanks for all of the reviews, you guys rock!


	19. Checkmate

**Chapter 19 – Checkmate**

"Put more effort into it! The reason you are failing is simply because you are not trying hard enough!"

How many times had she heard those words? Her childhood was filled with them. The reproachful glares, the admonishment that she was met with daily as she struggled to adhere to his exceptions while perpetually falling short. Born into a broken household, fragmented by an illicit affair that ended in her separation from her mother and twin brother – Yomi grew up in solitude. Sole heir to a financial empire, she was continuously groomed for that position.

Human interaction that did not include being yelled at or scorned became scarce. It was not until her early teenage years that she was reunited with the brother that she had always known of but never interacted with. Their bond was instantaneous, and at least on her part, obsessive. Hiro became the only person she could rely on, the only consistency that she could cling to.

He provided a love and a kindness that she had never before experienced. A warmth that she required to melt the ice encasing her heart. At once she treasured him and felt burning contempt. For Hiro represented everything she could never be, could never have. That bitterness only grew with age.

It accumulated gradually until it colored their every interaction, seeped into the tone of her voice and the words she spoke. Perhaps he noticed but paid it no heed. Yomi realized at once that it was guilt that drove him away from their hometown – seeking refuge in Ikebukuro. That put enough distance between them that their visits grew increasingly rare.

On one of those visits, she verbally cursed him for his abandonment. She broke her usual facade that gave the impression of a jubilance and happiness to reveal her jealousy and envy. "It's your fault," she seethed. "Why did I have to be the one chosen to inherit this stupid company?! While you just run off and leave me behind to enjoy the city life! It must be nice. You must be rejoicing. How lucky for you that I was the one picked. How fortunate that you were the one showered with love and affection growing up."

"I won't apologize for something I cannot change and had no power over," he responded tersely to her derision. Yet in the same breath he reassured her that he loved her. While that alone was not enough to suppress her grief, he promised her, "You won't be cooped up here forever. So don't worry. I have a good job in Ikebukuro and once I get settled in, I will work things out so you can leave. You can come live with me."

There was a part of her that desperately wanted to cling to those words. It was all she could do to hope that they were not a lie. Yet in the back of her mind she warned herself against betrayal. When before had her expectations not deceived her? Do not trust him, she told herself. In her own self-perpetuated paranoia, Yomi nurtured suspicions that Hiro was just waiting for an opportunity to stab her in the back.

Perhaps sensing that, he always tried excessively to reassure her. That was where her nickname was born – one that she embraced wholeheartedly. The hatred she had for her childhood seemed to extend even to herself, and for that reason Hiro seemed intent on changing her perception. "Yomi" was born, taken from the characters of her name – written with night and ocean.

All of his efforts did little to settle her growing unease as the distance between them grew larger. The time he spent in Ikebukuro grew longer and the promise he had made seemed less and less likely to be kept. It fed into Yomi's doubt.

And her fears were answered in the form of a late night call that roused her from a peaceful, dreamless slumber. Blearily she cast her gaze about the room before her eyes came to rest on the lit-up screen of the phone at her bedside. Groggily, she reached for it and pressed the receiver to her ear. "You have awful timing," she mumbled, her eyelids heavy enough with sleep that she could hardly keep them open.

"Y-Yomi... I... it's me."

Why was he stuttering so much? "Hiro-chan, did you watch a scary movie or something?" A ridiculous notion – that he would phone her from having nightmares from some R-rated film. But she could not shake the humorous tone from her voice as she asked.

The voice coming from the other end, however, was completely sober. "I need to meet you," Hiro told her urgently. "Where can I meet you? Somewhere isolated, where there aren't many people. I need to talk to you."

"You aren't in Ikebukuro?" she clarified.

"No."

Considering the fact that he did not offer up his location, she could only assume he was in the general vicinity. No doubt it would be impossible for him to breach the security to enter the house – not that he would. But still his request struck her as odd. Silently she acquiesced and then said, "We can meet at the parking lot behind your old high school. It'd be empty right now."

"Alright..." his voice trailed off for a moment as he took a shaky breath. "I will meet you there, then."

There was an audible click as he hung up and Yomi could not help wondering what had him so shaken. She rolled out of bed, landing rather ungracefully on the floor. The darkness was impenetrable, even with the shades pulled back from her curtain. A quick glance outside told Yomi that there was either no moon out or it was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds.

As she shuffled through the clothes in her dresser drawers to find something suitable for the bitter cold of night, her fingers grazed the cool black barrel of the gun she had stuffed therein. Self-protection, she had assured her father after demanding that he obtain a weapon for her. That he had ever complied was a shock itself. It was a semi-automatic pistol with a fully loaded cartridge. She had much practice in both using it and reloading – if only because she had been insistent despite her father's disapproval.

It seemed strange to even contemplate a weapon when she was rushing out to see her brother. Yet her fingers wrapped around it and she found herself tucking it in the folds of her coat. Then she set off, escaping through a heavily secured perimeter and scaling over a wrought iron fence.

Through the darkness she found her way to a street corner where she could wave down a taxi. It was too far to walk, she knew. The ride gave her time to wash away the last bit of sleep that was still clinging to her consciousness. So by the time she arrived in front of the school, she was completely lucid.

Sneaking around the side of the building, which was completely dark given the time of night, she slipped into the back parking lot that was surrounded by enough fence to protect it from prying eyes. Not that the neighborhood seemed the least bit lively.

"Hiro-chan!" she greeted cheerfully as soon as she spotted him.

He was pacing at the other end of the lot, his back turned to her. Yet as soon as he perceived her voice, he whipped around. There was perspiration trickling down his face and he appeared unusually pale. In the time since they had last seen each other, he seemed to have lost quite a bit of weight.

Yomi stopped just short in her rush to him, sensing that something was amiss. Her hand unconsciously wandered into the inside of her jacket, her slender digits curling around the length of the gun therein. It was silly, she knew, but there was a gnawing inside of her that screamed of the imminent danger.

"That expression doesn't fit you," she heard herself say.

His face broke into a nervous smile. "No. No, I guess it doesn't." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that his hand was slowly slipping into the pocket of his coat – a pocket that was bulging with an unfamiliar shape.

In the same instant, the twins both whipped out their respective weapons. Yomi did not even have the time to question where or how her brother had managed to obtain illegal arms. Instead her head was filled with her subconscious, victoriously declaring that she had been right all along – here he was to wipe her existence away. Of course, he must have hated her – detested her as much as she did him. The feeling had always been mutual, if unspoken.

But the expression on his face betrayed any sign that he held her any contempt. Instead he seemed the one surprised, although those widened eyes slowly sank shut after a moment. "Of course," he breathed out bitterly. "You don't trust me."

Why would he utter such an absurdity? Of course she did not. Who would trust someone who suddenly yanked out a weapon on the person that they purportedly loved dearly enough to sacrifice everything for? All of it was lies and deceit, Yomi assured herself. She glared at Hiro.

"So are you going to shoot or is that an ornament?" the female twin taunted.

Those lips of his that had been, up until that point, taut, suddenly curled up. He was smiling at her. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise."

"Liar," she snapped back in disbelief.

Hiro did not seem to begrudge her for not taking his words at face value. He kept that unabashed grin on his face even as the seconds ticked by. The tension in the air only grew as they remained at an impasse. But then just as soon as it seemed he might relax his arm and relent, he suddenly spoke again. "I love you, Yomi."

Almost immediately afterward came the earsplitting sound of a gun firing. As if on instinct, Yomi pulled her trigger as well. She barely caught a glimpse of Hiro's face before his bullet ripped through her torso. The force of it almost seemed to ripple the ground she was standing on. Unsteady, she collapsed backward, crashing against the concrete. The gun she was holding flew through her hand as she screamed at the sudden surge of pain.

Her hands flew to the wound, trying to stanch the lifeblood that was freely flowing out of her. Yomi struggled to get up but her entire body seemed unsteady as she tried for even a glance in Hiro's direction. Had her bullet hit? If he had similarly screamed, it had been imperceptible through the pain she experienced at the same instant.

But as she looked over at him, he appeared to have collapsed forward and remained motionless. Yomi gritted her teeth as she crawled the short distance over to him. Despite the intent she had while holding that gun, she felt her heart pounding at the very real possibility that Hiro was dead.

By the time she reached him, she heard a shallow cough that assured her that he was still conscious. The relief was short lived as she managed the strength to roll him over onto his back. It was clear from the dim light shining down into the empty parking lot that while he had missed her vitals, she had hit his dead-on. Straight through the center of his chest.

His eyes were frozen open and glazed over. Thick, warm liquid was oozing out of the corner of his mouth. Whatever remained of his consciousness was rapidly fading. Frantic, Yomi pressed her head against his chest. Heartbeat – he still had... no. There was no heartbeat. Only pure silence.

She hardly had a moment to contemplate the meaning of everything that had just happened. The immense amount of pain she was in coupled with the massive blood loss left her light headed. Good, she thought to herself, because she was going to die, too.

Initially she had felt despair at the thought of losing Hiro but there was no need to be afraid. Her eyelids fluttered closed. Yomi hoped to never open them again. For as long as she did not, she need not worry about why these events had transpired in such a way. It was easier to think that she and Hiro had killed each other. Double-suicide, perhaps – she cared not for what label was put on it. Just as long as she could be with Hiro, she could be whole. All the bitterness that polluted her mind could melt away in place of the peace that came with death.

Yet she did open her eyes, and it was to the sound of a heart monitor. To the visage of white. To the stink of ammonia. And the insipid hospital food. The worst of it, however, was to awake to the news that the doctor brought her – that Hiro was dead.

And all Yomi could feel was pure emptiness.

—

"It... it's not my fault," Yomi muttered beneath her breath, Izaya's accusation still hanging in the air moments after he had spoken it. She seemed ready to jump to her own defense and yet there was something within Yomi that recognized the truth of his statement.

"Yes, it is," he argued. "See, there was a fundamental difference between you and Hiro-chan in that moment, Yomi-chan. You bringing a gun was outside of his calculations and yet he never strayed from his intended path. You have tried to pretend that making it out of that alive was just an accident but you know the truth."

"He was going to kill me!" she screamed back at him.

"But you aren't dead." He smirked at her – looking almost triumphant. No doubt there was an intense satisfaction that he derived from having solved the mystery of it all. And he was not about to keep it to himself when Shizuo was standing just a few feet away, taking in all of this information that he had been blissfully unaware of. "See," Izaya explained, "He missed your heart on purpose. Now why is that, Yomi-chan? Unless... he only intended to seriously wound you."

"He wanted to kill me..." Her voice had grown into a whisper, repeating those words like a mantra. As though she could somehow convince herself if she said it enough times.

Ignoring her, the informant continued. "He employed a rather convoluted effort but the end result was intended to protect you from his mistake. Had he not pursued that course of action, you would have been dead. Killed by the yakuza as a warning to your brother."

Pivoting on the ball of her foot, Yomi turned toward Izaya and pressed the barrel of her gun against his forehead. "Liar! It's your fault!" she spat those words at him through gritted teeth. "You told him something unnecessary. You knew he would die!"

He rose his hands defensively. "Go ahead and shoot," he jeered, "If you can."

Yomi stared him in the eyes and, defiantly, started to press her finger against the trigger. But something stopped her from pulling it. Why? It had seemed so easy when Hiro had been her target. How could she possibly be hesitating in front of someone like Izaya? Especially when he was the one to blame!

"You can't," he chuckled, taking a few steps back and lowering his hands. "You can't because there is someone you want dead more than me." Then slowly he lifted a finger to point over in the direction of Shizuo who was still by the front entrance, blood trickling down the length of his nose. He had sustained a wound from the gun that Yomi had thrown at him.

Yomi numbly followed Izaya's gaze and turned to face Shizuo. Her aim subsequently switched to him as well.

"Think about it, Yomi-chan. Underneath everything, you knew the entire time that I was involved. But did you ever suspect Shizu-chan? He treated you coldly from the beginning and it was through his efforts that your brother felt pressured to come to me in the first place. So when you follow the chain of blame, Shizu-chan is the one waiting at the end."

There was something about those eyes of Shizuo's, brown as coffee grounds. They had always emanated a warmth reminiscent of Hiro. Even now as he took in all of this information, it did not change the way he looked at her. He may not have been smiling but there was something in his eyes that was. It brought comfort to the turmoil inside of her.

And while he had the opportunity to spring out the front door and run rather than stand in the path of a bullet, Shizuo remained steadfast. He gave no indication that he felt any inclination of fear despite the threatening atmosphere. Did he think she would not shoot? Was it because he trusted her?

"Go ahead," a voice whispered close to her ear. A shiver ran down her spine, particularly at the words that followed, goading her into action. "Shoot him."

"I-za-ya," Shizuo snarled. Apparently his hearing was acute enough to pick that up, and he was none too pleased at how disgustingly low the flea had stooped this time. Whatever had been holding him back before snapped in that instant and he came charging forward.

There was a resounding cackle as Izaya dodged around Yomi, taking the opportunity to retrieve his flickblade from the box on the floor. He brandished it toward Shizuo, who was keen enough to maintain his distance. In the meantime, both men seem to have forgotten entirely that Yomi was still present. Although she made no move to interfere in their affair.

Instead, Yomi stayed rigid as a statue, her eyes frozen forward. Her gaze dared not follow them. The gears of her mind were turning as she slowly tried to integrate everything she had learned. The facade was gradually crumbling away completely and she was left feeling vulnerable – exposed.

Perhaps convinced that she was too emotionally unstable to act on whatever she was thinking and feeling, Izaya let his guard down as he lurched toward Shizuo. Yet in the split second he lifted his blade to bring it down upon the blonde brute, something gleamed out of the corner of his eye. It was only by sheer luck that he had managed to react fast enough to avoid a carefully aimed shot that might have otherwise blown off his hand.

"Oh?" Izaya grinned to himself. "Are you still going to protect Shizu-chan despite what he has done? Have you changed your mind about getting revenge?"

"No," she responded stonily. Then she lifted the gun and pressed the barrel to her temple. "I know exactly who is to blame."

Despite how much she had tried to pass the blame off elsewhere, Yomi had always known in the back of her head. She had tried to deny it but the truth was that even she was aware that Hiro would never betray her. Whatever his intention by pulling that gun out on her, it had not been to make her unhappy. He had always loved her, even as she held intense bitterness and inwardly cursed him, he had only ever been affectionate and caring.

Hiro losing his life was only because she had never truly trusted him. No – more correctly, she had never trusted anyone. And that hate she mistakenly felt toward him was only a reflection of her own self-hatred. It had always been misplaced.

Recognizing the weight of all of that was enough to crush her. Yomi was not a person strong enough to endure that, despite the impression she gave. That was why she had wanted to die, from the moment she lost Hiro. Especially now that she had acknowledged the truth.

Just as her finger began to constrict upon the trigger and her eyelids fluttered shut in anticipation, she perceived the sound of footsteps rapidly advancing toward her. Just as the shot went off, something grasped her wrist and redirected her aim – fortunately into the opposing wall. Eyes startled open, Yomi found herself staring into those brown eyes she had been admiring just minutes ago.

"I won't let you die," a voice informed her gruffly as he tried to wrench the weapon from her hand.

Yomi elbowed the blonde in the face with enough force that blood almost immediately began to stream down. "Let go of me!" she snarled, trying desperately to break from his grasp.

"There is no reason for you to die!"

"My, my, this really has gotten interesting," Izaya commented dryly from a distance as he observed the ongoing struggle.

"I'll kill you too!" Yomi warned in a growl, aiming her knee at his gut in an attempt to coax him into relenting.

Yet the blow seemed completely ineffective as Shizuo successfully squeezed her hand hard enough that the gun slipped from her grasp and clattered against the floor. Now in a deadlock where he clearly had the advantage, Shizuo only grunted in response to her threat. "You won't kill me."

"I will," she argued with fervor. "If I can kill my own brother, I can kill you!"

Having caught hold of both arms, Shizuo was no longer in danger of one of her flailing punches hitting him square in the face. And so he leaned in toward her, their lips mere inches apart as he again refuted her claims. "You aren't a killer. It was an accident."

She blanched, turning white as a sheet. Those were the words she needed to hear and yet staunchly she denied that they could hold any truth. Despite the fact that she tried to continue to deny it, she found her voice trembling as she countered, "You don't know that. Maybe I really wanted him dead."

"No, you didn't. If you did, you wouldn't want to die now."

Despite gritting her teeth, Yomi could no longer hold it back. The dam broke and tears came flooding out as her body fell lax enough that Shizuo deemed it safe to release her. She immediately collapsed against the floor – finally reflecting on the outside how broken she was on the inside.

For Izaya this was a smug accomplishment, if not a short-lived one with the advent of police sirens gradually growing louder outside of the apartment complex. No doubt the commotion from the multiple gunshots had been enough to warrant the attention of the law. He could afford to linger no longer. Despite disappointment that Yomi had not gone far enough to actually rid him of the pesky blonde brute, certainly she had provided enough amusement. And if he was right, then she would recover eventually to provide him more in the future. Flashing a fleeting smirk, he darted toward the door and slipped out before he could be chased down by Shizuo.

The blonde, for his part, recognized that neither he nor Yomi could afford to be arrested, either. He quietly scooped her up into his arms. It was fortunate enough that she provided no struggle and was almost like a lifeless doll, dangling limply. He was not about to issue a complaint giving her willingness to be carted off.

"We're leaving," he told her decisively.

Disregarding the two guns left behind on the floor, Shizuo hurried out the front door. In the darkness of the night, he was lucky to be mostly obscured from the crowd that had assembled just outside the door. The sirens were deafeningly loud by now and far too close for comfort.

Using his inhuman strength, he picked up the pace and hauled out of there with Yomi draped in his arms. Her eyes gave the impression of someone not entirely there. Still the tears silently streamed down. Perhaps she was registering the meaning of everything.

Still, the most important part was that they had both escaped with their lives intact. Whatever reparations he owed her for the hand he had played in her brother's death – it was something he could only repay if they both lived on.

"Shi...chan..." she mumbled weakly under her breath.

Although he had been debating letting her down, when he heard her call his name and peered down, he noticed that she had somehow managed to doze off. It was for the best, for when she next opened her eyes, even he did not know how to face her properly.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Releasing this early in celebration of having finished NaNoWriMo early. We have at least one more chapter or perhaps two to go until Reaching for Nothing is over. I will subsequently or thereafter try to work on that Izaya one-shot. Anyways thank you guys so much for all the wonderful reviews you have given me. (Lookin' at you Sepsis, I am always so excited to see your reviews!) Hope you enjoyed and will see you again in two weeks.


	20. Game Reset

**Chapter 20 – Game Reset**

"I'm home." That was not something he would have found himself saying just a week ago, but in the aftermath of the incident at Yomi's old apartment, Shizuo had managed to collect an unconventional roommate. Granted that he would have expected her to employ her eccentric antics more. Unfortunately, it seemed that the psychological toll had left Yomi largely despondent to everything.

Those eyes of hers seemed unfocused as they peered over the edge of his couch. She was almost like a timid animal, warily peeking out from its hiding place. As soon as it was confirmed that Shizuo had returned, she slipped quietly off the couch and shuffled across the floor toward him. The expression on her face was unusually downtrodden as she extended a hand, gripping the sleeve of his uniform.

Shizuo planted a heavy hand on the top of her head, ruffling her hair. Such silent exchanges had become commonplace in the last couple of days. He could not fathom what she was thinking, nor had he been able to properly convey his regret for the role he played in her brother's death.

"Shizuo," she murmured quietly in a voice just above a whisper. It was almost difficult to discern that she had spoken at all.

"Hm?" At first it had seemed odd that she dropped the awkward nickname she had been employing for so long. But he had quite quickly grown accustomed to the new usage of his name – which he had always preferred over "Shi-chan."

"I... I want to go see Hiro." Her brows furrowed slightly and her lips curled downward in a frown. Yomi seemed to have unusual difficulty conveying what she wanted to say.

"Mm," the blonde grunted back. "Tomorrow?"

She gave a stiff nod and then tugged at his sleeve. "Come with me?"

The question that had been weighing on the back of his mind spilled out before he could put much thought into it. "You don't blame me?" Although, certainly even Shizuo knew that he was not the sole person to blame. Only one of the cogs in the wheel that had eventually squashed out Hiro's existence.

Yomi's eyes widened slightly and she gave a small shake of the head. Her lips trembled as though to express some words but she ultimately pursed them and averted her gaze. Whatever inward struggle that was still waging in her mind, she had not given Shizuo so much as a glimpse into it.

In the back of his mind, a part of him feared leaving her alone every day. In fact, he had even thought to enlist Celty and Shinra as babysitters to ensure that she did not harm herself in his absence. Yet in the few days that had passed, she gave no indication that she was contemplating suicide. And fortunately the flea had not made a reappearance – though Shizuo was unsure as to how long even that would last.

The sudden noise of Yomi's rumbling stomach interrupted his thought process. As though completely unabashed, she peered up at him earnestly and mumbled, "Dinner." It seemed as though she did little but mope about the apartment in his absence – meaning that she skipped meals if he was not around.

It was not unlike having a child to take care of. And perhaps she had really regressed to such a state. That would have explained her uncanny behavior. She was deceptively demure, contrary to how her personality had been beforehand.

"Ramen?" Shizuo suggested. Certainly he had no particular talent for cooking anything beyond simple noodles. And as soon as he received a nod from her, he started toward the kitchen. Although with Yomi tagging along on his heels, fingers still pinching at the fabric of his sleeve. Another consequence of the whole situation had led to her being exceptionally clingy.

When the ramen was done and they settled down at the table to eat, Yomi positioned herself beside Shizuo and kept a firm grip on the sleeve of his shirt with one hand, using the other to maneuver her chopsticks and gradually shovel noodles into her mouth.

"You gonna let go?" he asked, betraying no hint of annoyance.

After slurping another mouthful, she peered over at him and shook her head. "You'll leave... if I do."

"I'm not going anywhere." Without returning her gaze, he continued to shovel the noodles into his mouth even after saying that.

Yomi studied his profile for a moment, perhaps evaluating his sincerity, before finally releasing her hold on his sleeve. She appeared slightly dejected as she returned to her bowl of ramen. Perhaps she interpreted his words as rejection.

As soon as he finished his bowl, he stood up and started to head toward the kitchen. Almost as quickly, Yomi flew out of her chair and stumbled as she tried to chase after him, clutching desperately at the back of his shirt with trembling hands.

Shizuo held back a sigh as he glanced back at her. That obsessive worry that he was going to abandon her seemed to have her desperate not to let him out of her sights. No amount of reassurance on his part seemed to alleviate those fears. And certainly of all people, he was the most ill-equipped to be able to handle the problem of Yomi's insecurities. He was not even sure where to begin to start helping her in recovery.

Ultimately, however, he was growing accustomed to the constant echo of her footsteps behind him. As evening passed and night descended, she followed him even as he climbed into his bed. He was quite literally struck dumb when she crawled in beside him, curling up close to his body beneath the warmth afford by the duvet.

"What are you doing?" His tone sounded almost reproachful.

Yomi peered up at him with those dead eyes of hers, and dolefully said, "I want to sleep here."

Shizuo held back a sigh as he scratched at the top of his head. It wasn't as though he could just easily kick her out and send her back to the couch. But did she not have any self-awareness? Oblivious to relationships as he might have been, he was not entirely clueless to the meaning of sharing his bed with someone.

Wait – but since when did he start thinking of Yomi in that way anyways? Involuntarily, the sigh slipped through his lips and just as quickly he felt a hand against his cheek. At first he tensed under the unusually gentle touch.

"Is it... okay for me to be alive?"

The question caught him by surprise. Was that what she had been mulling over this entire time? Although, the more he thought about it, the more he supposed it only seemed to logically fall in line considering everything she had been through.

"Yeah," he finally answered, awkwardly patting her on the top of the head.

Her facial expression, which had momentarily been pained before, gradually softened as she cuddled up against his side. There was obviously more on her mind. He could see it in her eyes – other questions she wanted to ask. Yet they remained unspoken and in the absence of further conversation, he deemed it time to turn off the light.

The positioning in the bed was somewhat uncomfortable with her pressed so snugly against him. He could scarcely move an inch without squashing her in the process. Yet all the same, her presence brought a comfort and a warmth that he had never experienced before.

When morning came, breakfast was brief and they almost immediately set out onto the streets of Ikebukuro. Being around Yomi was surprisingly more lively than he had thought it would be. She had seemed to sleep peacefully by his side. And at this current point, she had a strong grip on his hand as they walked side-by-side.

"Where to?" he asked, having been left in the dark from the onset of this entire "journey."

There seemed to be a slight crease in her lips, a ghost of the smile that she had worn just weeks prior. "We'll have to take the bullet train to get there." She gave Shizuo's hand a squeeze as she peered over at him, seeming suddenly more plaintive. Perhaps the thought of visiting Hiro's grave weighed more heavily on her mind than he thought. No doubt that she still struggled with feelings of guilt.

"You're more talkative." That, at least, he had noticed.

Yomi cast her eyes to the ground as they continued walking. "You stayed by my side... even though you know... what I did."

"Yeah."

She peered back up at him, revealing the first smile he had seen since the whole incident took place. "I have felt really empty without Hiro this whole time. I still... don't know how to feel now that I know he's gone. And nothing I do can bring him back."

"It's not your fault," he reminded her solemnly.

Yomi seemed to ignore his words, whether she took them into account or not. "Shizuo, you'll stay by my side from now on, right?" Her eyes seemed to reveal her insecurity. That earnest side of her was not one he was accustomed to seeing. It was as though all the walls, all the outward layers that had kept him at arms length for so long had been stripped.

He turned his head away and rubbed at the back of his neck with the hand that was not linked to hers. "Yeah. I'm not leaving you." It was kind of embarrassing to say it outright like that, but he figured he should match her sincerity.

"If I have you then... I think I can be okay. If you say it's okay to live, then maybe I can find a reason why I didn't die with Hiro."

That declaration came as a surprise. He peered over at her curiously but she just seemed to maintain that gentle smile. Was he truly looking at the same Yomi that he had gotten to know this whole time? The whimsical, eccentric girl with no common sense? She seemed so... normal suddenly. No – vulnerable, perhaps, because this was the true person whose nature he had only gotten brief glimpses of before. The facade was largely broken but even he could sense the progress she was making at recovery.

Once they boarded on the bullet train and settled into their seats, Yomi placed herself closest to the window while Shizuo occupied the spot immediately beside her. And even here, she insisted on keeping their fingers entwined. It was particularly strange for him considering the odd looks the conductor gave them as they came on. No matter where he went – he earned attention for his height, his general ill-tempered disposition, and his blonde hair. For a change, however, he did not have a crooked cigarette butt protruding between his lips. Not that the train accomodated his smoking habits anyways.

Being packed in like sardines left him a little antsy. Perhaps because he had neglected to smoke that morning. The nicotine cravings left him shifting uncomfortably in his seat, which quickly gained Yomi's attention as she peered over at him.

"Smoke," he told her after receiving that questioning gaze for some ten minutes.

"Hm~ you mean you aren't going to bounce that habit? You're a lot more attractive when you don't stink of cigarette smoke."

A vein momentarily bulged from his forehead as his first instinct was to be annoyed by that remark. Yet he quickly recovered once he took note of the fact that the teasing tone so resembled the old Yomi. His critical glare received a quirked brow in turn.

"What is it? Did you suddenly think you want to kiss me?"

His immediate reaction was to withdraw his hand and turn away, but Yomi kept a firm hold on him. Despite his embarrassment at her odd behavior, she did seem to be a little more chipper than before. So he could not completely reject her.

And somewhere along the timeline of their trip, Yomi eventually drifted off. Shizuo only noticed belatedly when he felt a weight against his shoulder. As soon as he peered over, he caught sight of her sleeping face. He sighed to himself as she nuzzled against him.

For Shizuo the trip seemed endless. Yomi appeared to doze through the whole thing. It was not until their stop was called out over the loudspeakers that he finally saw fit to nudge her awake. Although trying to coax Yomi into peeling herself away from him proved difficult.

"Just a few more minutes," she protested in a low whisper, rubbing her face against his shoulder.

When their turn to disembark came, Yomi kept a solid hold on his hand – refusing to untangle their fingers. Shizuo similarly could not find the heart to pull away in the face of that small smile that occupied her lips while she was close to him.

"His grave is here?"

She gave a solemn nod as they walked together. The streets were fairly empty and it was certainly a rural town. Was this where she grew up? Part of him was skeptical – if she was being groomed as an heir to a large corporation...

As though reading his thoughts, Yomi piped in, "I didn't live here, but I was born here. My 'mother' lived here with Hiro." She seemed to use the term 'mother' loosely and spoke it with some measure of disdain. Obviously the bitter feelings that existed there had done little to dissipate even over the passage of years.

"She still live here?"

The dark-haired woman's lips grew taut as she shifted her gaze to something in the distance. That did not seem to be a subject she was keen on lingering on. Yet she did not entirely ignore it as she finally admitted, "I don't know. Probably."

That conversation died off quite quickly. Shizuo contemplated mentioning that they could pay a visit, but he got the feeling that Yomi had no interest in seeing her mother. They had come to this place for one reason and one reason alone: to see Hiro.

His burial place, coincidentally, proved to be in an even more remote location than the town itself. Together they were forced to climb a dozen steps. Yomi's face contorted in pain about halfway through as she pressed her hand to her side.

"Yomi–"

"Ignore it," she seethed back at him through gritted teeth. "It's not much farther." A brief glance at her blouse told him what he already suspected. The teal of her shirt was becoming discolored, turning almost black. It seemed that blood was seeping out of the wound that Shinra had sewed up. Had it not been long enough for it to completely heal? Although, Shizuo supposed, Yomi had prolonged her body's recovery through all of her reckless actions.

As much as Shizuo wanted to quietly go along with her wishes, he tightened his grip on her hand and came to a complete halt, forcing her to do the same. The questioning look she shot him went ignored as he hesitantly reached for her blouse. Although he kept repeating to himself that he only wanted a look out of concern for her health, he still found himself almost nervous as he gingerly lifted her shirt from the edge.

Whatever he was expecting, he did not see. There were bandages wrapped firmly around her abdomen. They, too, had been discolored by blood but it did not seem as excessive as he had at first feared. A glance up at Yomi earned him a prompt glare.

"It's not as bad as it looks."

"When we get back, go to Shinra."

"Yeah, yeah. Now let's go. I'll even let you smoke in front of Hiro if you want." Actually, until she had mentioned it, his mind had not wandered back to cigarettes.

When they arrived at Hiro's gravesite, Yomi seemed to be surprised to find that it had been recently cleaned and fresh flowers placed. It was not until this point that she finally relinquished her grip on Shizuo's hand and sank down to her knees. Her body curled up as she made for a bow with her forehead pressed against the ground.

"I'll go over there," Shizuo mumbled quietly, getting the feeling that she needed time to herself to reconcile with her own inner demons. He would just feel like he was impeding if he lingered.

He strayed just far enough from earshot while remaining close enough to keep an eye on her. Shizuo made a point to keep her in his peripheral vision as he dug out a cigarrete. Lighting the end, he finally found himself relax a little as he waited for her. Yomi almost seemed as though she was prostrating herself in front of the grave. Perhaps that was the only way she knew to repent.

At last, however, she did seem to straighten herself. He could see her lips moving though he could not make out the words. Yomi seemed to affectionately caress the stone before her. And perhaps he was mistaken, though it almost appeared as though tears had welled up in her eyes.

Eventually she wandered over to where he was standing. "We can go now, Shi-chan." Suddenly she had reverted back to using that annoying nickname.

"Finished?" he asked, prying the burnt-out cigarette butt from between his lips. He tossed it to the ground and crushed it beneath the sole of his heel before extending his hand out toward her, as though already predicting she would want to hold it.

"Hm? You're actually offering? That's new. I thought you didn't like hand holding, Shi-chan." Before he could pull away in embarrassment, she quickly grabbed his hand in hers and weaved their fingers together. "See? Isn't this nice? We're like a couple!"

"A... couple..." he echoed back thoughtfully, although there was a look of disbelief on his face.

"What? Do you like the sound of it? You want to be with me forever?"

Certainly she seemed to be coming back to her natural self, the way she was excitedly rambling off one question after the other. His subdued expression contrasted greatly with hers. All of the focus and attention left him disadvantaged, but rather than meet her expectations with rejection, he actually gave a quiet grunt, "Mm."

Yomi blinked back her surprise. "What?"

"Yeah," he reiterated, being a little more direct this time.

Rather than react with a blush as he would have expected from any normal girl, she chuckled and then grinned as she tugged him along. They started back toward the station. "That's really good, Shi-chan. You seem to have fallen for me already."

It was not until they were back on the train that Shizuo finally ventured the question that he really wanted to ask. "You feel better?" More to the point, he wanted to ask whether or not she would be alright. Certainly she had rapidly improved despite her initial silence and tendency to cling to him. But he wondered if this was another calm before the storm, or if the storm had already passed.

"I asked Hiro for forgiveness."

He stared at her sidelong. That was not the answer he had been expecting.

"Well, I guess he can't answer me, can he? But don't they say something about seeking forgiveness and you will find it?" That was not something he could answer, for Shizuo himself was not particularly religious. Still, Yomi smiled. "I think... I'll be okay. But I think I'd like to keep some distance from Uzaya." There was a noted absence of the "-chan" honorific that she had dropped off his name.

That much, Shizuo was relieved to hear. He also wanted to keep her as far away as possible from the flea.

"Oh, you're smiling!" she suddenly pointed out. "So, if I went to go see him again, would you be jealous? Would you chase after me? Hm?"

In consideration of the fact that she was nearly bellowing those questions out, leaning closer and closer to his ear, Shizuo promptly pressed his index finger against her forehead to shove her back. "You're noisy."

"You're not denying it~"

"Be quiet."

"What? Are you embarrassed now?"

He sighed in turn, hand now fully pressed up against her face to keep her from leaning any closer. For the excessive noise, they had already received the derisive glares of several of those sitting nearby. Even Shizuo, who was usually completely socially unaware of his surroundings, felt the weight of their gazes.

Somehow the situation seemed to resolve itself when Yomi settled back in her seat with a cat-like grin. She kept quiet for most of the rest of the ride, peering out the window occasionally. Shizuo in the meantime finally found himself able to relax in his seat when she was not talking his ear off.

By the time they returned to Ikebukuro, darkness had already started to settle over the city. Yomi was leading Shizuo along by the hand, this time skipping merrily while humming a tune under her breath. She had certainly recovered enough for him to resume questioning her sanity. But he found himself happy all the same.

"Hey, hey, why don't we have Russian sushi?"

Shizuo shrugged his shoulders in response. Where they went was largely inconsequential, as he was finding out. The most important part was being together. And that was something he had never felt prior to meeting Yomi. Nor something he had ever expected he would feel with her.

"Say, Shi-chan?" Suddenly she stopped at the edge of the bustling crosswalk, and she turned to him.

"Hm?"

She frowned and made a motion for him to lean in closer. "Hurry up," she ushered with a sense of urgency. "There is something I forgot to tell you earlier."

Having grown accustomed to this sort of behavior, he reluctantly leaned toward her, head tilted to give her his ear.

In a voice barely above a whisper, the warmth of her breath buffeting the shell of his ear, she said, "I love Shi-chan the most." The momentary shock he felt at those words was punctuated when she pressed her lips against his – in the midst of a busy intersection, in view of hundreds of people. Almost as soon as the moment was over, she pulled away with a smile and started to walk off.

Shizuo held steadfast like an anchor, not budging despite her attempt to drag him along. Instead, he managed to be the one who pulled her closer, clapping a hand down on her shoulder to stay her as he took the initiative and leaned in himself this time. It was awkward and clumsy – he realized – but he did not have much experience in kissing, either.

Almost as soon as he pulled away, he noticed that Yomi seemed to be completely spaced out. Until finally she seemed to realize what had happened. "Huh...? Shi-chan, did you just...?"

"Me too," he interrupted, scratching at his chin. "I also... love..."

Before he could even finish, she suddenly flew into him, throwing her arms around his torso while nuzzling his chest. "You finally said it, Shi-chan! I knew you had to like me, too. Now it's official. You can't take it back, you know?"

"Yeah."

It was, perhaps, the first time in Yomi's life that she felt truly whole and at peace. To be loved, to love – something she had never done before with anyone besides Hiro. And in the comfort of Shizuo's arms, she finally felt safe.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who stuck with this story for this long. The ending has been a long time coming and I don't know if this is what I had expected when I started but I think, ultimately, I am pleased with how it turned out. I certainly learned a lot in the process. Thank you for those of you who reviewed, your feedback is invaluable. :)

**Genuinely-Unique - **Haha, that's what I am starting to do in other fandoms - less heavy stuff, that is. Thanks for mentioning this, actually, since I had not put much thought into it prior to you saying something. Once I finish up some of my other projects, I may make an effort to make some more light-hearted OC Durarara fiction. ;3


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